 
' _Duane Mullett, Detective_ is more than a novel, it's a bible. A blueprint for those who truly appreciate the melodic genius of Stairway To Heaven; for those who realise the support that only tight black jeans can bring; for those who understand that bourbon and peanuts do form a perfectly balanced meal and for those who have ever known the kind of love that only a column shift gearbox and eight cylinders can bring. That and it's also the perfect thickness to prop up my broken Gibson amp.'

- M2 Magazine

Duane Mullett, Detective

by Warren Friend

Smashwords Edition

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Published By:

Abogo Productions on Smashwords

Duane Mullett, Detective

Copyright 2006 Warren Friend

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Staring Down The Barrels

Chapter 2 - Teacher's Bloody Pets

Chapter 3 \- A Vision Of Beauty

Chapter 4 - Thinking Up A Storm

Chapter 5 - At Home With Crime

Chapter 6 \- Little Miss Girly Swot

Chapter 7 \- She Was A Horny One

Chapter 8 \- The Prince Of Rark

Chapter 9 - A Peek At The Gold Watch

Chapter 10 \- I Dread To Think

Chapter 11 - A Nefarious Act

Chapter 12 - Alex's Missus' Step-Nana's Secret

Chapter 13 \- A Rank Job

Chapter 14 - Mr TFG341

Chapter 15 - Playing Thunderstick

Chapter 16 - The Force Of Nature

Chapter 17 - Keeping The Fires Burning

Chapter 18 \- In The Presence Of The Dark Lord

Chapter 19 \- Kicking Loser Butt

Chapter 20 \- The Pick Of The Bunch

Chapter 21 - Riding A Rickshaw To Bombay

Chapter 22 - Another Exciting Opportunity

Chapter 23 - Get Shorty

Chapter 24 \- If You Book Them They Will Come

Chapter 25 - Brother From Another Planet

Chapter 26 - A Couple Of Turn Ups

Chapter 27 - Playing The Mateship Card

Chapter 28 \- The Lord Of The Darts

Chapter 29 \- The Ancient Lore Of Men

Chapter 30 \- A Shag's Better Than A Wank

Chapter 31 - Doing A Tapdance On Mars

Chapter 32 \- The Sign Of Four

Chapter 33 - Where Vinegar Comes From

Chapter 34 \- Twisting The Knife

Chapter 35 - A Message From The Market

Chapter 36 - A Present For Frieda

Chapter 37 \- The Quest For Truth

Chapter 38 \- Taking The Piss

Chapter 39 - In The Market For Love

Chapter 40 - Backstage Passes

Chapter 41 - On A Recruitment Drive

Chapter 42 - Where's Tintin Now?

Chapter 43 - Uh Oh

Chapter 44 \- A Taste Of Dog

Chapter 45 \- Some Tough Love

Chapter 46 - Glittering In The Limelight

Chapter 47 - Tomorrow Is Another Day

Chapter 48 - In Through The Cat Door

Chapter 49 \- Loose Lips Sink Ships

Chapter 50 - Getting A Bead On The Love Freaks

Chapter 51 - Run, Run, Run

Chapter 52 - The Collective Dream

Chapter 53 - Looking Out For A Friend

Chapter 54 - Hanging With Uncle Jack

Chapter 55 \- A Kick In The Guts

Chapter 56 - Awesome, Man

Chapter 57 - Different Strokes For Different Folks

Chapter 58 - Cheers, Duane And Alex

Chapter 59 \- Driving The Right Road

~~~~

The Black Hawk circled around high above the plain.

He could feel the cool wind under his wings while he kept a sharp eye out for any action going on down below. But there wasn't much happening to stir the interest, so he parked up on the highest branch of the tallest tree that could be found on the plain.

You see, this was his perch. His, and only his, perch. No other bird would dare risk his wrath by landing here because everyone knew he was king of this terrain, this whole territory.

Now, using his sharp and handy beak, he gave his glossy feathers a bit of a preen. He wanted to make sure he was looking in tiptop shape in case some spunky Hawkette came gliding in...

~~~~

STARING DOWN THE BARRELS

Looking back over my life, I'd have to say it hadn't been too shabby.

Watching it all on rewind I could see I'd had plenty of great shags with a truckload of real spunky chicks. And a lot of those shags had happened in the back seats of some pretty awesome big old cars. There'd also been an ocean of piss sunk at a heap of parties and a whole lot of laughs had with some damn fine people.

Yep, I'd done all right with my life so far. And I reckon I'd also done real well to get through watching it all in just ten seconds too. Because that's about how long I'd been staring down the twin barrels of a well-oiled Winchester 101 12 gauge double barrel shotgun...

~~~~

TEACHER'S BLOODY PETS

Now, you're probably wondering at this point how such a crash hot crime-busting Slayer of Evil as myself ever got into such a tight spot. And let me be first to admit that I think you've got a pretty fair question there.

But like most questions here in Glenvale, it has a fairly straightforward answer and that would have to be this: ambition.

Yep, ambition of the most naked kind. Though I'd also have to admit super quick that it wasn't mine. No, this obsession with making a name for himself belongs to our new boss here at the Glenvale Central Police Station. And while it's hard for me to say exactly when I got poisoned with his sickness, it sure made me break out in a cold sweat this morning when we were given our latest assignment...

The day had begun like any other since our new boss had started here, with all the detectives parked up in the briefing room. And, as usual, I was struggling to keep my eyes open as the boss wittered on about his grand plans for a new, improved Glenvale. This morning he was droning away about how if we all tried super hard, maybe we really could turn around a hundred years and six generations worth of the local citizens' natural laziness, abusive tendencies and anti-social behaviour.

As I dozed, my eyes drifted as always to our goddamn sexy workload distribution manager, Frieda who sat facing us near the boss. It never ceased to amaze me how hot she was able to look at such a disgracefully early hour of the day. Having a gorgeous face and stunning body probably really helped but it was her choice in clothes that set her apart as some sort of hornbag goddess. Today she was wearing a strapless black number that hugged her figure just enough to accelerate the imagination to dangerous speeds. I was just imagining unpicking the seams of her dress stitch by stitch with my teeth, when my golden thoughts were rudely interrupted by the boss mentioning my name in dispatches.

'...now, as for, Detectives Mullett and Szabo...' he said waving a manila folder in me and my partner Alex's direction. 'I've got an interesting job here for you two. How do you feel about looking at a 416 for me?'

There was a sound of about ten detectives taking in their breaths at the same time because that's what they all did, including me.

You see, me and Alex weren't really looked up to much for our cop-type abilities at the station, not by the boss or anyone. Not that we were too worried about it though. We were just happy to have a legit job – no mean feat in Glenvale! – a car to cruise about in and a little bit of weight to chuck around if we so saw fit. We got on all right together and we gave as much shit to the other fellas around the traps as they gave us.

So normally a 416, or Armed Robbery, wasn't really the type of mission we got given. You needed some personal motivation at least for a job like that, and a little competence would also come in handy. It was definitely a task that ought to have gone the way of James and Mitch, Ronny and Justine or even the trainees; Burger and his dorky sidekick, Rice.

Burger certainly thought so. 'Stuff me!' he said looking over at us and making a poor job of hiding his disgust, 'guess who's been polishing the General's helmet?'

'Get back on your sister!' Alex snarled back but the damage was done. The boss had just exposed what everyone knew – but until now were quite happy to let slide – that me and Alex were crap useless at our jobs. He was chucking unleaded 91 on our barbie by deciding to hand us a job like this in front of everyone. We were on short notice; succeed or piss off.

But we'd worry about that later. Now there was a much more pressing matter; that of rescuing our dignity, and fast. 'You want us to bring you an apple each tomorrow?' I asked the boss, 'seeing as we're now teacher's bloody pets?'

Everyone laughed, with a little bit too much relief for my liking, and while they were at it, I stole a look over at the foxy Frieda who normally decided who got what. But she wasn't giving much away so I glanced back at the boss himself. He was just looking at me with a smirk. It must have been his idea, the bastard!

'I'm sure you've heard about the recent spate of Shell service station armed robberies?' he said ignoring my question and chucking the manila folder over at me and Alex. 'There's been at least four of them. The last one was in Dyer Street. I want you to go and talk to the manager there. See what you can find out about these alleged perpetrators and why they have such a particular interest in Shell Oil.'

And that was that. In two seconds me and Alex had been dragged kicking and screaming out of our early semi-retirement and into the world of earning our crusts. It was scary stuff.

As we all wandered out of the briefing room both me and Alex wore smile masks as though we were stoked with the way things were going. But once we got into the corridor, old Alex hissed to me out of the side of his mouth. 'What's he trying to pull? Doesn't he know how long we've been on the force?'

'I think he does know, fella,' I whispered back shaking the dust out of my flowing locks. 'That's the problem. But I reckon we'd do best to play along for a bit. C'mon, let's go spill some thunder.'

But before we could get out to the car I spotted that sexy Frieda's butt wiggling ahead of us as she walked along the corridor. 'Hey gorgeous!' I called out as I hurried to catch up with her.

Frieda sighed and turned to face me. 'Look, there's no use hassling me about it. It wasn't my idea, I already know your limitations.'

'Not all of them you don't.' I said with a grin, 'but we can change all that this weekend if you like. I've rented a porno that we could watch together.'

Our workload distribution manager snorted at me. 'Is it starring animals or people?'

I pretended to be surprised by this. 'Bloody choosy aren't ya?' I said giving her a wink.

'Tell you what, I'll call you,' she replied and turned to walk off again, 'don't wait up.'

~~~~

A VISION OF BEAUTY

'Whatever the bloody hell you two are thinking of doing, stop it right now and put your bloody hands up!' an angry Indian face said about 30 inches of well-oiled gunmetal back from a pair of incredibly black round holes that had suddenly appeared in front of my eyes.

Now there's a few things I've never seen, like blankets on a pornstar's bed or a car shark give a discount that he hadn't already counted on. And, until right now, I'd also never seen the end of a locked and loaded twin barrel Winchester 101 12 gauge double shotgun up close neither.

So I wasted absolutely no time in obeying this order and the air up high in the shop felt nice and cool on the palms as I waved them around to dry off the sweat.

Then there was a double sound of twin triggers being cocked and it was about this point that my own private This is your Life TV show started to play in those sinister black circles. I've got no idea how long I watched it for as I wasn't aware of anything else until suddenly all I could see was this gorgeous chick in a light-coloured flowing dress. She'd popped up where the black holes had been and she was looking at me with a strange Mona Lisa type smile. Beams of golden light seemed to spill out from her head and block out anything but her face.

With a heavy sigh I realised what must have happened...

'Am I dead?' I asked the golden-haired angel.

Her smile faded and she screwed up her face a bit. 'No. You're in a gas station. A Shell one.'

Oh. That didn't sound very heavenly. Or even particularly hell-like for that matter. Using all my willpower I managed to drag my eyes away from the vision of beauty, and took in another one that was a lot less satisfying to gawk at.

She was right. I was inside a pretty shabby old gas station along with a handful of customers who were all leaning back against shelves full of groceries as though slammed there by an invisible explosion. They were all looking towards the counter where my trusty partner Alex was holding up his badge for the Winchester-waving Indian fella to see, like he was using a cross to keep a vampire at bay.

'Ah, so you are police...' the Indian station manager muttered a bit sheepishly as he read Alex's badge and uncocked his weapon. 'I'm so sorry, but we've only just been held up, and I thought you guys were more robbers here casing my joint.'

As I watched, everyone in the room sagged a little with relief once the shotgun pointed back up at the ceiling and the customers climbed off the cans of spaghetti, magazines and plastic packs of oil they'd been perching on.

'Jeez, Louise! You got a license for that thing?' Alex demanded of the manager fella after a moment, pissed off that, now the crisis was over, some of the customers had started smirking at us.

The manager just looked at him and shrugged as he put the gun back behind the counter. 'Are you kidding me?'

'Yeah, okay, fair enough,' Alex said but I could see he was still rarked up about the customers and he turned on them. 'What the hell are all you looking at? Everyone here got a current rego sticker on their dash?' and within seconds the shop had emptied out.

'Hey! What are you doing to business?' the Indian said chucking his hands up in the air now, 'you may as well be robbers!'

'Come on! You just had a gun shoved up our nostrils. Cut us some slack!' I snapped at him before turning my attention back to the vision of beauty I'd just enjoyed a moment or two back. She was still standing there in front of the magazine stand but she wasn't bathed in angelic light no more. Now I could see that it was just the fluoro bulbs in the shop picking out the highlights in her hair.

'Are you okay now?' she asked with a worried look on her face.

I nodded weakly. 'I think so.'

'Oh good,' the golden-haired one said, 'well, I just came to get my rollie tobacco.' She smiled and held up a fresh packet of Drum for me to see, 'and, as long as you're feeling all right, I should probably go...'

I didn't like the sound of this. 'No! Er, I mean, can you stick around for a minute – '

Alex chose this moment to pipe up. 'There ain't much reason for that, Duane. I don't think she's who we're looking for.'

'Speak for yourself!' I snapped back, 'she looks pretty good to me.'

That was a hit! The vision of beauty broke back into another smile. A shy one this time. Or was it sly?

'Look, don't worry about him, miss.' Alex was really getting my back up now. 'He's just being a bit of an egg. Well, more than usual anyway. You're free to go if you want.'

'Wait!' I didn't even know her name! 'Where can I – er, I mean, we contact you if, um, we need to contact you?'

The golden haired angel smiled again. 'I'm over at the Riverside Market most days. I've got a stall on the first floor.'

Then she slipped her packet of Drum into her bag and pushed out through the door. I watched through the big glass windows as she walked across the forecourt and out of sight, her long golden hair and loose linen dress fluttering about in the breeze. It was really weird but I felt like a bit of me was disappearing with her.

I sighed and turned back to look at my partner and the station manager who were both standing there staring at me.

'Any time you're ready there, Duane.' Alex said with maximum rark.

I nodded. He was right. I had to get my shit together and start thinking about solving this case otherwise we'd end up as cigarette butts under the sole of Burger's shoe. I turned to the manager fella and held out my hand.

'How's it going, Smiley? Detective Duane Mullett from Glenvale Central, I think you've already met my partner. And you are Mr...?'

'Patel, Sanjay Patel.'

'Pleased to meet you, Mr. Patel,' I said reaching out to shake a hand containing fingers that had been twitching on the trigger of a shotgun pointed at my face only a few minutes ago. 'Is it okay if my partner and I have a look around your store for a bit to, you know, familiarise ourselves with the crime?'

Sanjay shrugged. 'Go ahead. It's not like I have any customers left to serve,' he added with a glare at Alex.

I nodded my thanks and both me and Alex started to stroll around the servo station glancing at all the stuff hoping for inspiration. There wasn't nothing special about it, old Sanjay was just running a regular gas station like everywhere else. In his superette section he had an aisle with car bits and bobs; fanbelts, spark plugs, windscreen wiper blades and anti-bug shit. Another aisle had snacks for the road; bikkies, junk food, lollies, cans of stuff and even flour, in case you had an urgent need to bake a cake on the side of the road I guess. All the fridges were busting with milk, soft drinks and juice, and there was frozen fish bait out on the forecourt for the homeless to snack on.

But there wasn't nothing I hadn't seen anywhere else. Why would these guys want to only hit Shell stations? There must be a reason for it somewhere. I tried to remember back to my police training college days for a few handy tips to help me out here. I was sure they'd talked about solving crimes at some stage, but it was a long time ago now. And I hadn't exactly been a model student while I was there neither. In any department.

To be honest, I'd spent most of the sixteen weeks in the backseat of my car shagging one of the college receptionists, Lisa Dawes. She was a bit of all right was old Lisa. She'd been right into her swimming as a lass so had a bit of a barrel chest for a chick. It also meant she had outstanding stamina which helped me tone up for the physical exams no end.

I'd also had a run with Leonie Styles, who was one of my classmates. I remember she had a mole on her left hip that looked like Italy and she wasn't too shabby in the sack neither. And smart too! She'd helped me copy off a few of her assignments which, frankly, had bought me my pass to glory. But I didn't have much time to thank her as she only lasted a few months in the force before racing off to get married and start having sprogs.

She still rings me every now and then. Christ knows why! We haven't done nothing since. Maybe she's still mesmerised by my charm...

Anyway, I wasn't getting very far with my deductions and the manager dude was watching me close like he was expecting great cop-like stuff from us. It'd be a shame to disappoint him.

'The way I see it,' I said waggling a finger in the air as I wandered back toward Sanjay still trying hard not to think any more about the golden–haired chick, 'the most interesting thing about this case is the fact that these robbers only seem to want to hit you Shell fellas.' I stopped in front of him. 'So... got any bright ideas as to why you were singled out for special attention?'

'No. But I guess that's why I'm not a policeman,' our Indian friend replied with more than a hint of rark in my direction. 'Besides, this is Glenvale. Why does anyone need a reason to commit crimes here?'

'How about ex-employees? Sacked anyone lately?'

'Constantly. I go through staff here like my wife goes through gold rings.'

'Any of them give you a hard time when they left?'

The manager sighed and shrugged again. 'They all leave me with threats. Like I say, this is Glenvale.'

I knew what he meant. Our neighbourhood was known for a lot of things, but churning out helpful and trustworthy staff was definitely not one of them. I could wear my knuckles to the bone door knocking for surly ex-employees with violent tendencies, for everything from nuclear physicists to childcare workers. We just weren't a jolly, happy-go-lucky bunch. Amway had failed really badly here.

'I know!' Alex suddenly said, strolling over from where he'd been checking out the CD rack, 'you Shell guys all do Bonus Miles don't you? Well, maybe the guys were wanting to score some of them without paying?'

Unfortunately, the station manager wasn't so stoked by my partner's startling insight. 'But to get Bonus Miles you have to pay for something first you silly man!'

Alex looked pretty hacked off that this guy might be hinting that he wasn't such a crash hot cop. 'Yeah, but what's to stop them getting you to zap up a few points on the card while they're in here huh?'

I could think of a reason and, going by his glance at me, so too could Sanjay. If the robbers had gone and done that then the people behind the counter might have had more than just a sneaking suspicion as to their identities.

'What sort of police are you?' Mr. Patel asked glancing from Alex to me.

I puffed out my chest. 'Don't you worry about nothing fella, we'll sort this out in no time. Glenvale's finest are on the case.'

'If that is so,' the manager said shaking his head, 'then I better get in contact with my insurance company straight away.'

~~~~

THINKING UP A STORM

After that there wasn't much else for me and Alex to do but head back out for the Toyota. As we walked out of the service station and across the forecourt, my partner started buzzing in my ear. 'Man, you're shameless! Trying to pick up a chick at a crime scene. How low will you stoop?'

'Hey! I would have been able to do more than just "try" if you hadn't kept butting in all the time!' I replied. 'What's the matter with you anyway? Anyone would think you were her goddamn father the way you were carrying on.'

Before my partner had time to reply we'd got close enough to my piece of shit courtesy car to see there was a surprise waiting for me.

'Oh man! I don't believe it! Another bloody parking ticket!' I snatched it off the windscreen. 'How long were we in there?' Honestly, I had no idea myself, to me it had seemed a lifetime.

'I dunno,' Alex shrugged, 'how much is it for?'

'Thirty bucks. But that's not the point! I've got about ten of the bastards now, and it all adds up.' I unlocked the doors and tossed the ticket into the glovebox with all the others.

I threw myself down into the driver's seat and leant back for a minute on the leopardskin car seat covers I'd transferred over from my Valiant while it was in the shop. 'What's up with Traffic at the moment? They've been writing tickets like they're going outta date lately! And all for me too!'

'Maybe you should put an expenses claim in with the boss,' Alex suggested with a smirk.

'I dunno what you're laughing about. You ought to be paying half of these!'

'I ain't paying nothing for this heap of shit,' my partner grumbled picking at the peeling paint on the inside of his door, 'when're you gonna get rid of this rust farm and get your real car back?'

That was a good question and it was one I asked myself pretty much everyday now that my mechanic had had my car in his shop for over a month. But, there was no point in giving my partner bullets to shoot me with. 'When that fat Webby finishes crafting his loving touches,' I said instead, 'and not before.'

'When he finishes ripping you off don't you mean?' Alex snorted and I had a sneaking suspicion there was a bit of truth in that, not that I'd let him see though.

'Of course, you could always supply us with wheels instead of just bitching.'

Alex honoured me with the finger and we went quiet for a while just sitting in the car. I didn't feel like driving or nothing yet, it had been a full on morning already and I just needed to get my head back together. I tried shutting my eyes but all I could see were those two black holes burning there in front of me. So I opened them up again and tried to think of the golden-haired angel instead.

'Jeez, that market chick was hump-bait wasn't she?'

Alex screwed up his nose at me. 'You reckon?' then he shook his head. 'I dunno what you're getting so fired up about her for, she's just a hippy chick. They don't shave under their arms, you know that eh?'

This was news to me. 'They don't? Eugh!'

'Yeah. 'Course they don't. That's what makes them hippies. I would've thought a fully qual rooter like yourself would've known that,' Alex added with a hint of rark.

But I didn't. You see, despite my lifelong shag-athon, I'd never been with a hippy chick before. Up until now, I'd never found them even slightly interesting with their loose flapping dresses made of the types of material your Nana would wear, their anti-money bullshit and endless drivelling on about karma. But I couldn't keep this one out of my mind. In fact, I was tempted to nip over to the Riverside Market and see if I could spot any golden-hair thatches right now.

Alex read my mind. 'Oh no you don't!' he growled pointing a warning finger at me, 'you can chase your tail on your own time. We've got work to do now. Let's go round to my place and plot up our next move from there.'

'Why your place?' I said, 'I don't wanna shag your Missus!'

'Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it,' my partner said grinning, 'she's real good eh.'

'So Burger's been telling everyone.'

Alex screwed up his face at me. 'Oh shuddup ya egg!'

I was tempted to suggest the pub instead, but seeing as it probably wasn't even ten o'clock yet, that was a bit rough even for me. So I just shrugged, chucked the Toyota into gear and burned rubber out from the curb, merging hard in with the traffic headed north. The Toyota was bloody gutless though. Goddamn Webby! What was he doing to my car? And how much was all this work he was doing going to cost me in the end? It would truly rip my nightie if I couldn't snatch back my Valiant due to my being short on Webby's bill. These bloody parking tickets weren't helping....

'Here we are making our city safe from armed robbers and how are we repaid?' I asked out loud as I roared along Murchison Ave, 'with a bloody parking ticket! Makes the staring down the barrel all the more worthwhile I say.'

Alex was laughing at me. 'Go on, have a good cry, Duane. You'll feel better in the morning!'

I decided to ignore that cheap shot. 'Makes you think though doesn't it,' I said instead of arguing.

'Think about what?' Alex said clutching onto his Jesus Handle as I went round a corner perhaps a whisker too fast. "Jesus Handle" is the Glenvale name for the handles you usually find above the passenger doors in a car. They are called this because you usually only grab them when you're about to shout "Jesus!" due to some amazing road-leaving stunt currently being performed by your driver.

'About life, the universe and everything ya moron! What did you think I was talking about? Your guitar pick collection? I was talking about our lives. And when they're in the magazine like that, locked and ready to get shot off. It makes you think about what you've done with it, have you done enough to make it all worthwhile?' Alex didn't say nothing to this so I went on, 'didn't things like that go through your head back there? Didn't you start to wonder who would miss you if the trigger did go off?'

'I wasn't worried about nothing,' Alex said looking out the window.

'Oh yeah, you can say that now, Braveheart. Once we're safe here in the car. But you weren't so cool back there in the shooting gallery were ya? I'm quietly confident nappies were getting soiled.'

'What're you going on about, Duane?' Alex said turning away from the window so he could get mad with me. 'If you were scared, that's fine! I ain't gonna spit on you for it! You had a gun in your face. But I know for a fact that that manager dude didn't wanna shoot us. He was just protecting his shop, that's all. So quit talking like that.'

I was quiet after that outburst. Alex didn't usually say so much in one spurt so he must be really stirred up. But I reckon that he was real scared back there but he just didn't want to admit it. Well, that was fair enough. It was a big thing to say for anyone. And he probably had more to lose than me. He had his Missus and young Axl, whereas I had, well, no one who'd care an awful lot... see what I mean? It wasn't a breeding ground for happy thoughts. I was going to need a bourbon real soon whether it was ten o'clock or not.

But really all this was the bloody boss' fault. Me and Alex had never had to stare down any shotguns with old Tugger in the driver's seat. Yet this new guy was obsessed with bashing all and sundry over the head with that rulebook of his.

It's not like there was any pressure on him from anybody. We were in Glenvale after all. Crime to us is like snow to an Eskimo, it's everywhere. Here mothers smiled when they saw their kids grow up with a healthy contempt for the Law, and the lawbooks themselves were seen as just a handy hints guide from which to draw your own ideas of right and wrong. For example; in Glenvale, Car Conversion is seen as a bit more innocent than it is in other places. Here, it's like you've just picked up someone else's ballpoint pen by mistake. And like a pen, the ex-owner'll either get their car back later, or they'll go and lift someone else's when they need to use one. And if you don't want your car stolen, then you don't just bloody leave it lying around do you!

But that's not how our new boss sees it. Oh no! To him Glenvale was a river of crime that had to be diverted away, even if it meant chucking the whole lot of us in the slammer. In fact, I reckon that's exactly what he really wants, whether we were guilty or not.

And now he was getting me and Alex to join in on his crusade. He was wanting us to go out and pester the living crap out of Glenvalians instead of doing things our our old way of just riding around all day checking out the available talent on the street under the pretence of flying the flag.

Oh sure, me and Alex hadn't always been completely lazy. Sometimes we'd go nab a runaway kid for her pining solo mum or bust some fella for running dope in someone else's patch. But we'd never do nothing that would step on the toes of any of our mates.

And that was what was giving me the shits about this satanic new boss from across the Western. Him prodding us with his pitchfork into doing real work was sooner or later going to have us walking into the smoking Valley of Hell looking for our mates. And I tell you, it's real rough on the reputation when you have to start cracking down on your buddies for doing stuff you've done with them ever since you were in primary school together!

~~~~

AT HOME WITH CRIME

Finally I squealed the Toyota around the last corner before Alex's place.

His was part of a small old complex thrown up back in the days when the builders were still a bit shy about packing people in too tight. So Alex's family were lucky enough to have more room than most. This, and because they lived on a ground floor corner, meant that they'd been able to section off part of the apartment for the Missus to use as her newsagent shop. They also had two front doors, one for her and one for the family, which was real good because then we didn't have to cramp the Missus' style by marching up into the house through her shop.

It also meant that, once we got out of the car, we could walk through Alex's garden too which I was secretly jealous of. Alex must have an ultra green thumb, because all the weeds were growing up real high in between the cracks of the concrete of his front yard and there were even pretty pink and white flowers on some of them. They were at just the right height so you could sniff them and not have to bend your back. It looked like a forest in there and was real nice to walk through, unlike my place where the weeds were all spindly and dry looking. I just can't understand that. I water them all the time by emptying the last bits of my beer can onto them but it never seems to do any good. I guess some people are just naturals at gardens.

'So how is the Missus?' I asked Alex as he unbolted their front door.

'Hacked off,' Alex said with a glum face, 'she's just found out someone's been lifting porno mags from her shop. So, as per usual, I cop the meat of the storm.'

He opened the door and we went inside the dark and gloomy house. It was always dark as the inside of a black dog's butt in here because Alex had had to put cardboard boxes and thick curtains over all the walls and windows to cut down on the noise. His neighbours had finally busted a gut over the 24 hour a day guitar solos Alex and his kid Axl had been serenading them with. They'd threatened Alex and his family with eviction unless he stopped drowning out the soothing sound of traffic on the great Western motorway. And, because his Missus had her business attached, Alex couldn't afford to just give them the finger. So up went all the boxes and blackout curtains. Now it was always so dark in here I didn't like hanging around for too long in case my eyes started losing their colour.

'Porno mags?' I muttered thinking about what Alex had just said, 'well, that stands to reason. What else would you take from her if you were a thief?' I wouldn't have a clue what else to take, big books with dirty pictures was about as far as I went literary-wise.

'But what if it was a chick thief who came into the Missus' shop?' Alex asked as he led me into the "music room" that he and Axl shared, 'she wouldn't wanna nick stick mags!'

'She might if she was a lezzer,' I said in reply as I watched him move guitars, amps, leads and fuzzboxes out of the way so we had some room to think. I would've offered to help but I'd learnt long ago that Alex didn't like having a non-muso touch his equipment. I might make it go out of tune or something.

Alex stopped to think. 'Yeah, maybe...' he said scratching his chin, 'I'm not so sure about that one.'

'Well, good on 'em anyway,' I said, 'shows they got taste eh.'

My partner snorted. 'Yeah, go on, laugh it up. It's not you who has to wear it.'

'No, you're right there, fella. But that's one of the perks of being a single man. No curfew, no mowing the lawns, and I can go out hunting for shag every night while you're stuck at home making cups of tea in your slippers!'

I thought Alex would get all shitty with me for saying that but he didn't.

'Yeah, I s'pose,' he said all thoughtful-like as he wound up a lead. 'I guess sometimes I get a bit slutted that I missed out on all that when we went and had our kid at only 15.'

He was a good kid, that Axl. And shit! He was amazing with the guitar! I secretly thought he was already better than Alex. Then again, Axl didn't have to always play the same old stuff all the time like his old man. If Alex and his band ever played anything that wasn't the Eagles or Zep or CCR he'd get a stubbie bouncing off the side of his swede for his troubles. On the other hand, young Axl could even write his own songs and his mates and school all thought it was awesome.

Yeah, I could see why Alex was smiling, and secretly again, for a moment I was wondering if maybe I was a mite jealous.

'Oh boo hoo!' I said instead, rubbing my eyes real sarcastically like I was crying Niagara Falls. ''My Broken Arse Life – Vol. 1' by Alex Szabo. Mate, my heart bloody bleeds for ya!'

'Oh shuddup, ya eggburger!' Alex said giving me the finger and glowering away like crazy, 'sometimes I swear you are the Earth's dick!'

We were interrupted by the sight of Alex's Missus appearing in the doorway. She was a bit of all right was old Alex's Missus. She was quite curvy and not too tall and her hair was shoulder length and bottle blonde.

'I thought I heard a coupla slackarses!' she said, 'what the hell are you two doing here? Have they finally seen the light and sacked the pair of ya?'

'Not yet,' I said, 'but they're working on it. I hear you've had some hassles out the front there.' Alex groaned when I said that but I just ignored him.

Alex's Missus frowned at this. 'Bloody kids coming in and nicking my mags!' she said glowering away at no one in particular.

'Hey wait a minute, babe,' Alex butted in, 'you don't know who for sure –'

'Well, why the bloody hell don't ya find out for me then? You're supposed to be the cop around here! Find out who it is so I can tan their bloody hide for 'em!'

But Alex wasn't keen to play along. 'Oh jeez, babe! Not now, I've got too much on!' he sighed, 'I gotta do detective work all day, the last thing I wanna do is come home and solve more crimes.'

Bad move. This only served to rark her up more. 'Then why do you bother coming home at all for?' she demanded with the fists going to the hips. Uh oh! She was giving him the full sugar bowl with both handles on display. 'I reckon you only come slinking back in here for a feed and a root half the time!' she went on warming into her work. 'And frankly, if that's gonna be your attitude, you can just forget about any of that for a while!'

Alex was looking real shamed about the way she was talking. He was mentioning his kid but I reckon he was far more worried about me hearing all this. 'Sssh-shh, babe! Axl –'

'Oh piss off!' his Missus cut in, hellfire spouting from her lips, 'he ain't even here! Not that you'd know coz you never lift a finger to take him into school. Nah, why would ya? You've got it too sweet around here with me as your servant to do everything for ya!'

Old Alex may be good at a lot of things; playing his guitar, being smart, cracking jokes and behaving like an all right sort of fella, but he was crap useless at dealing with women. He just didn't seem to have any idea of how to handle a riled up chick. Most fellas are capable of learning that once a chick gets a fire under her, there's nothing in the world that can put that fire out but time. And if you keep opening your mouth to argue with her – well, all you're doing is blowing more oxygen onto the flames. I tell you, if you put a right rarked up chick in a machine gun battle with no bullets, she'll load her own teeth into the magazine rather than give up the fight!

So rather than just lowering the shoulders and popping out the bottom lip for a bit of an airing, Alex seemed determined to make a bed for himself on the couch by opening up that dumb gob of his again. I figured I had to step in and save the day...

'Hey, I know what to do,' I said all innocent-like, as though we were discussing what flavour icing to put on a kid's birthday cake, 'let's just rig that camcorder of yours up in a corner of the shop behind the paperbacks. That way you can catch the bastards red-handed. And, I tell you what, I'll go get it instead of just standing round here with me thumb up.'

I started for the lounge and I could see out the corner of my eye that they were both looking at me like I'd just spat on the carpet. But I was sure I'd cut them off before they hit the freeway. I was even surer when Alex stopped me by grabbing my arm.

'Nah, I'll go get it,' he said and headed off instead leaving me with the Missus.

'He's never home you know,' she said to me still mightily pissed off, 'he's always out working or playing in that bloody band of his. You see more of him than I do!'

'You're saying that's a bonus? You ought to be thanking me for keeping the prick outta your hair.'

In reply she gave me an evil eye. 'Some friend you are! Talking about him like that.' But somewhere in the distance I could hear the clank of red hot steel plates beginning to cool down, 'no shit, Duane, I feel like a bloody solo mum half the time. I go round to people's places with Axl and they're always wondering if me and Alex've been having a fight coz he ain't there too. It's downright embarrassing after a while.'

'Don't you worry about it, Missus,' I said, 'we'll rig up that camera, him and me, and then you'll have your light-fingered crooks ready sliced. Then all you have to do is think about Alex while you're dealing to 'em!'

She threw her head back and laughed and it was a good laugh. A laugh the world probably heard a lot more of before kids and mortgages and recycling on Tuesdays came along. When her head straightened up again she looked at me with a smile on her lips. 'Oh, he's all right is Alex. He's just a slackarse, that's all.'

I tell you, that smile made her look like a young girl again, well, a younger girl at least – for she and Alex weren't that old really, both were barely thirty. Glenvale seemed to age you before your time. Maybe it was all the motorway fumes...

Anyway, I could see why she and Alex had got together – and why he ought to start pulling finger in ensuring that that remained the status quo. 'Nah, he ain't so slack,' I said, doing my bit, 'he's just always trying to fit a lot in and there ain't enough hours in a day for him to get round all the traps sometimes.'

She was about to pass comment on this when the man himself re-entered carrying his beloved camcorder and all the sunshine disappeared again behind a cloud. 'Right! I'll leave yous to it!' Alex's Missus said, the lemon wedged firmly back in her mouth, 'lemme know when you get a bite,' and she was gone.

Alex rolled his eyes at me like this was the sort of shit he copped all the time but I'd had enough of playing guidance councillor for one day. 'Come on, let's get this bastard whacked in,' I said jiggling his camera, 'then we've got ourselves some serious think hours to pull.'

~~~~

LITTLE MISS GIRLY SWOT

It didn't take us too long to set up Alex's camcorder up in the corner of his Missus' shop and then we were free from home chores to concentrate on saving our jobs. We went back into the music room and Alex pulled out a map of the city and folded it so that only Glenvale was showing. Then he started sticking it up on the wall with some drawing pins. I was amazed! I'd never seen him so organised.

'Well! Well! Look at Little Miss Girly Swot!'

Alex turned around beaming. 'Yeah, good eh! The Missus, she gave me all this stuff from her shop,' he said then held up a fistful of coloured felt pens, 'we can even draw some pictures later too!'

'Only if they're dirty pictures,' I said and got out the Shell file, 'coz I ain't interested in nothing else!'

Alex gave me a red pen and I marked all the places on the map where Shell stations had been robbed. Then we both stood back a few paces to give it a bit of dimension and admired my handiwork.

'Anything strike ya?' Alex asked screwing up his face in the hope of catching a different light.

'Nothing yet, ' I had to admit. And nothing did seem to be jumping out.

All my marks were spread out at uneven amounts. There didn't seem to be any sort of pattern at all. No cluster of points sketching out some sort of mystical symbol that would give us a major clue about who was doing the robberies.

In fact, if you joined these dots together with one of Alex's pens you'd just get a kid's scribble I reckoned. But that didn't stop the man himself from having a brain explosion though.

'Hang on. All the robbed Shells are near off ramps from the Western. You reckon that could have a bearing?'

'Could do,' I said not wanting to be a total misery guts, 'but that's probably coz they whacked in a lot of gas stations near the Western. Which isn't so dumb when you think about it.'

'Yeah, but don't forget there's other Shells in Glenvale,' Alex persisted and pointed out a few in the guts of our neighbourhood to prove his point, 'and our fellas haven't gone near any of them, see? So that points to them cruising up and down here...' he ran his finger along the Western, 'then jumping off when they feel like stirring up somebody,' then made sudden movements off the Western into the dotted Shell stations.

Looking at the map and thinking about what he was saying, I could imagine it was possible. Maybe Alex was onto something here. 'Well if that's right,' I said, 'then it probably points to these fellas trying to knock off some more Shells along the Western.' I said pointing out more service stations on the map where I knew them to be. 'So I reckon all we have to do is lie in wait for 'em to strike, then jump out and catch the bastards!'

'Jeez!' Alex said all smiling and happy, 'this cop work ain't so hard really! I dunno why Burger and them all get such a hard-on about how smart they are!'

'Hang on!' I said wagging my finger at him in warning, 'we ain't caught noone yet, so let's not start pissing on Burger's face too early!'

'Yeah, I s'pose you're right,' Alex said a bit embarrassed, 'coz there must be still quite a few Shells left unrobbed near the Western.'

'Egg-zackery,' I said and reached out for another pen from Alex and he chose out a blue one for me.

I used it to mark all the unrobbed Shells near the Western I could think of. 'About nine by my count. So, unless we come up with any more startling insights, that means we've only got a one-in-nine chance of catching 'em with their pants down anyway.'

Alex looked troubled at this. 'Nine's a lot. Shouldn't we get some of the other fellas to sit on stations too?'

'What? And let them scoop the credit pool?' I said shaking the dust out of my flowing locks, 'nah, I reckon this is a job only for them who need to keep theirs. Therefore, I'm of a mind that we just choose one of our nine and park up there nights 'til our boys come stumbling in begging for cuffs.'

Alex didn't look too convinced. 'Yeah, but what if they get sick of Shell and start ripping into Mobil or someone else?'

'Then me and you go shoulder-shoving for a decent pozzie down at the soup kitchen!' I said and gave him an evil look for inventing problems when we had enough on our plate already. 'Now, if you've finished guts-aching I reckon we should quit wheel spinning and go celebrate our cracking this case with a few well-earned drinks down at the pub. How does an early lunch at Guvvy's sound?'

Alex grinned at me, 'I thought you'd never ask.'

~~~~

SHE WAS A HORNY ONE

Now, there isn't much to say about the Governor's Tavern, or Guvvy's as it is known to everybody except the rent collectors, that someone hasn't already said about a million other bars like it. It isn't flash and it isn't a tip neither, at least not at the beginning of the night anyway. It's got a couple of pool tables, a few pokies, a few tables with ashtray holes in the middle of them and dirty old beer-smelling carpet. I don't want to waste any more time talking about Guvvy's itself, it's the people in it that are much more interesting.

One of these is a chick by the name of Debs who I'd known so long it was hard to describe her, as it was like trying to say what wearing jeans feels like when you are so used to doing it.

But I'll give it a go for you. Debs wasn't that tall, and was just starting to get a bit of hippo-itis with it nowadays. She had a ginge's pale skin although she'd be first to admit she couldn't remember what colour hair she really had because she's dyed it for so long. She was also beginning to leather up a bit as a result of the Curse of the Nightcrawler but it was only the best creasing, with all them laughs over the years leaving their mark. She had big boobs and a butt to match, and she was like a sister to me though we used to go out off and on yonks ago.

She was also the bass player in Alex's band - but you didn't say that to her face though unless you wanted your ear thickened. Alex was the guitarist in Deb's band to her. And both Debs and Alex played guitars in the singer Pete's band if you were talking to him. But let's not go there now.

Guvvy's was empty enough at this time of day for me to be able to see her straightaway sitting there by the window tucking in to a decent feed. With my detective's eye I also spotted another wine glass at her table. Debs was either real thirsty or she had company, and going by the wineglass, it was most likely chick-shaped.

'Hey, Duane, Alex! Get your butts over here!' she cried out once she saw us wandering in.

We were happy enough to stroll over and sit at her table where she gave us both a quick kiss on the cheek once we were down to seated level.

'How's ya shag life, sweetheart?' she asked me.

'Oh, you know, keeping it from getting rusty,' I said glancing at the second wineglass, 'but I gotta watch out coz, like Neil says, rust never sleeps.'

Debs saw what I was looking at and glared at me. 'Oh no you don't!' she said glaring at me, 'that's Rachelle's and she's a good mate of mine, so keep your filthy paws off her!'

'Hey!' I said, holding my hands up where Debs could see them, 'I ain't even met her yet! You never know, I might not fancy her.'

'Huh!' Debs grumped, 'that's never stopped ya before!'

Even though we were only kidding around, I reckon Debs is still a tiny bit pissed off that we'd busted up all those years ago. Even now, she still hated seeing me with other chicks, especially when they were her mates.

'My shag life is good too,' Alex butted in with a sour look on his face.

'Ah, shut it, Alex ya nob!' Debs said, 'once every ten years doesn't count as news!'

While we were laughing at my partner, Oscar, without doubt the world's dirtiest and hairiest barman, brought Uncle Jack over to our table. And just as I took my first well-earned swig of Jack Daniels for the day, I spotted Deb's mate. Or at least I hoped it was her, because she was a bit of a spunkrat. Tallish with long dark hair and real curvy and fit-looking like she did some sort of martial art, she sure caught the eye. Needless to say, she also wore black tight-fitting gears as we were in Glenvale after all.

'Oh, here she is!' Debs shouted out happily, 'boys, meet me great mate Rachelle, who's finally seen the light and moved up here at last. God bless her!' Debs then grabbed the sexy spunkrat and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

'Rachelle, eh?' I said eying her up, 'that's French ain't it?'

'Ya think so?' Rachelle said with a laugh as she sat down next to Debs, 'I reckon it's a bloody scrubber's name!'

'Nah, I already met her,' I said, 'and she ain't a patch on you.'

'What's your name then, spunky?' Rachelle asked eying me up now. Her voice was real deep and gravelly which was very sexy.

'Spunky,' I said giving her a wink, 'but enough about me. Where're you from?'

'I've just come up from down the line, eh.'

'Ah,' I said, 'I was just gonna say you weren't from around here, coz I sure would've remembered you if I'd seen ya around.'

That went down well. 'Oh, guess who's a bit of a ladies man then?' she said her eyes shining back at me.

Debs had had enough of me flexing my charms. 'Excuse me while I puke!' she groaned sticking her finger down her own throat.

Alex had too. 'Jeez, you're a shocker!' he said, 'I dunno why you even bother wearing clothes you're that shameless!'

I chugged down the hint and put the spade away in the garden shed for a bit until we'd all had a few more drinks and Debs and Alex had got sidetracked into yakking about band stuff. Rachelle beat me to the draw though.

'Nice haircut by the way,' she said fluffing up my fringe with her hand.

'Yep,' I agreed, 'work at the front. Play at the back.'

'So, are you at work or at play at the moment?'

'Work,' I said, 'which is a real shame eh, coz otherwise I'd invite you off for a game of pool somewheres.'

'Alex was right,' she said shaking her head, 'you are shameless! Then again, so am I...' she added with a wink.

Jeez! She was a horny one! And Uncle Jack was just starting to whisper in my ear that I should jump over onto her side of the table and peel that top of hers off with my teeth, when she cut me off at the pass...

'You must have a pretty good job if you can spend the day down at the pub. What are ya? A bourbon taster or something?'

'Uhh, if only!' I said swigging from my beer. I'd switched from bourbon a while back as it was never a good idea to let Uncle Jack out of the bottle while there was a hot spunkrat around. 'Nah, I'm a detective.'

Whoops! I must have had a few because I usually didn't let that one slip for a while. To be honest, most chicks didn't mind and some even thought it was awesome to be running around busting people like Starsky and Hutch. But as for the rest, well you may as well have told them you were a tax collecting dentist they go cold that quick. So, I'd found it was always much safer to just say I was a helicopter pilot or kitten rescue paramedic, at least until I knew whether they were going to spit in my eye or not.

I needn't have worried. 'Oh, awesome! Have ya got a gun?'

'Sure, babe. But not on me. In case it goes off by accident wrestling some terrorist to the ground.'

'Or it goes off in the toilet more like,' she said rolling her eyes, 'but how come you're in here drinking all day?'

So I told her. I told her about how the boss had given us a rark up this morning and given us the Shell banditoes to bring in. Then I told her how we'd cracked their code and we were going to bring 'em in to show the boss in the morning and see how his smartass city boy face looked then.

'But you gotta expect that don't ya?' she said sipping from her wineglass all thoughtful like, 'if he's an ambitious prick, and he's your boss, then you're gonna have to end up one too aren't ya? That's his game and you gotta play it. Otherwise you're gonna end up getting the bum's rush sooner or later. But it's the same all over, you just had it too sweet for too long with the old guy.'

Old Tugger, yeah I was missing him now. Life was a lot easier with him in the saddle. Me and Alex could pretty much do as we pleased which was just fine as far as we were concerned.

'So, we weren't model workers,' I said with a shrug, 'but at least we knew how useless we were and left it at that.'

She laughed hard at that one. And it was a good laugh. Nice and throaty and genuine. 'Bloody hell! You can talk some shit can't ya?'

I grinned. 'Yeah, I speak it fluently.'

'So how are you gonna decide which gas station to stake out?'

'The ancient Glenvale way of course,' I said turning to eye Alex. He was busy talking to a couple of Guvvy's regulars but he sensed me staring at him and turned to look back at me. I slowly raised my right hand off the table and moved it around until it was behind my back while never taking my eyes off my partner.

Alex clicked to what I was suggesting and gave a tiny nod.

Then we both slid off our barstools at the same time and slowly stepped over to a bare patch of carpet until we were standing about six feet apart and staring at each other like we were gunslingers from a spaghetti western. People saw what we were doing and backed off so we had a clear view of each other, both of us standing with our right hands held behind out backs.

'Come on, Duane!' Rachelle yelled from over at our table, 'kick his arse!'

'You betcha, babe,' I said before growling at Alex, 'who you gunning for?'

'Jessie Street,' my partner muttered.

'And I've got Blair.'

'Al-ex! Al-ex!' a familiar voice started to chant.

'Hey!' I snapped out at Debs without taking my eyes off Alex, 'whose side are you on?'

'I woulda thought that chanting Alex's name woulda made it obvious, ya nong!' she laughed back and slithered over from the side to give him a big kiss on the cheek.

'Traitor!'

Then I saw Alex flinch and both of us shot out our right arms in front of us in a flash.

My fingers snapped out to form Scissors!

Dammit! Alex had Rock.

I'd nearly gone for paper too but had changed to Scissors at the last second. Whatever, Alex and Debs were now punching the air with his victorious Rock while the punters who were watching all cheered.

So, Blair Street was now rubble, while all the asphalt on Jessie Street still gleamed all shiny and black. I turned to shrug at Rachelle. 'Sorry, babe. Looks like you backed a loser.'

'Oh, I dunno,' she replied with a wink, 'it's only early days yet!'

Meanwhile my partner had started gloating. 'Ha! Ha! I just knew you'd do Scissors!'

'Oh yeah? Did you just know I'd do this too?' I said jabbing the air with an aggressive finger.

'It's unbelievable!' Alex was laughing at me, 'you always start with Scissors! I could've put the house on it!'

'All right wiseass, put your shack up against Heaphy Street then!'

'Any time you're ready, punk.'

A crowd of people from around the bar had wandered over now and half of them were chanting for me; 'Duane-y! Duane-y!' while the other half were chanting for him; 'Al-ex! Al-ex!'

This time I went for Paper...

Dammit! He'd done Scissors and now everybody on Heaphy Street was homeless too.

'You're such a sucker, man! I can read you like a book!'

'Again!' I shouted, 'go again!'

This time even my supporters had started chanting 'Loser! Loser!', instead of my name.

'Hey!' I shouted back at them, 'don't think I'll forget this! I know where you all live!'

Paper!

Arrrrrrgh! He'd done Scissors again and it was 3 – 0!

And so it went on. And on. Until I'd lost eight in a row and I was lying flat out on the beer-soaked carpet with a bar cloth over my face to hide the tears. I got no sympathy from noone neither. In fact, the whole bar was standing around me in a big circle chanting, 'Mull-ett, lose-r! Mull-ett, lose-r! Ah ha ha! Ah ha ha!' which isn't exactly too healthy for the ego.

After a while Alex grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me up to my feet. 'Okay, chump. We better get going soon. It's getting dark out.'

I nodded and blew my nose on the bar cloth which raised another cheer, then the pair of us staggered off towards the door.

'Oi!' a voice yelled out from behind the bar, 'where are you two off to?'

'I dunno,' Alex said with a grin and cupping his hand to his ear asked; 'where are we going again?'

'Jessie Street!' the entire room screamed back, 'Mull-ett, lose-r! Ah ha ha!'

'Bullshit you are!' Oscar shouted over the din, 'you're too pissed to go anywhere! Here,' he said snapping his fingers at me, 'giz your keys. I'll drive ya there.'

~~~~

THE PRINCE OF RARK

I never would've let Oscar drive my Valiant but, seeing as that fat Webby was still hatching her in his workshop, that wasn't an issue. So I had no similar qualms about letting the hairball get in behind the wheel of the Toyota. In fact, Oscar wasn't too bad a driver at all and was able to slide around the corners along with the best of them. He was doing much better than the other barman Mikey anyway, who was really struggling to keep up with us back in Guvvy's Mitsi van. Oscar had got him to follow us so he could pick him up once we got to Jessie Street.

No, Oscar's driving was all right but what I really had to worry about was the piles of dirt and hair he was leaving on my driver's seat.

'Oi, Osk, drive us through that carwash there, will ya?' I said after spotting one along the way, 'then we'll wind down the windows so you can have your first ever shower!'

Oscar just gave me the finger without looking as he thrashed the Toyota around another corner. Meanwhile Alex in the backseat carried on giving me the full rundown on how he'd outsmarted me every time in Rock, Paper, Scissors.

'...then, after that, of course I knew you'd go for a double double bluff – '

'Hey, how 'bout you double double stuff a cork in that bunghole in the middle of your face there, prem boy?'

'Just keep sucking on that lemon, Lose-r ah ha ha.'

Finally, we got to Jessie Street and Oscar parked us up in a spot where we had a clear view of the Shell station but anyone on the forecourt would have to be ultra sharp, or super idle, in order to be able to spot us back.

'Okay, ladies,' Oscar said as Mikey pulled up behind us, 'I'll leave you two lovebirds to it. Try not to start smooching each other until I get outta eyesight!'

'Your loss, bud,' I said grinning back at him, 'this could've been your best ever chance at a threesome!'

Then Mikey and Oscar shot through, leaving just me and Alex to settle back and wait for our surly prey.

Jeez! That Rachelle was a real spunkrat! It had been real hard just powering off and leaving her back at the bar without even grabbing her phone number. But I wasn't too worried, I wouldn't have to look far to find her. Even if Debs was bound to give me an earful for chasing after her mate. But hey, this ain't the world according to Debs, so she'd better get used to it.

Yeah, I bet that Rachelle shaved under her armpits – and probably some other places too. Unlike Miss Golden Hair. What was with these hippy chicks? Didn't they know anything about sexy?

I sighed and leaned back into the leopardskin. I'd better stop thinking about chicks, at least for five minutes anyway. We could be waiting for ages for these bandito characters to show up and I didn't want to get too fired up with only Alex around for company. Ugh!

Waiting... maybe we didn't have the right venue... nah, it had to be here. Rock, Paper, Scissors didn't lie. The banditoes would come all right.

Banditoes... these guys were armed. Not that they'd shot anybody, but still, they could...

I glanced at the glove box then at my partner. 'Whaddya reckon? You think this is a Colt job?'

Alex made a face then nodded so we reached in and took out our standard issue pistols. All us Slayers Of Evil had Colts in the cars. The dope trade had forced us really. You see, they used them as a kind of signal to other dopers that they were seriously in the game. So we had to have them as well.

But no one on either side liked using modern weaponry really. It was well known that once you started whipping pistols out then your opponents would too. Next thing you know, someone starts thinking guns are for shooting people and the feathers'd be flying. That wasn't what I'd joined the force for...

What had I joined the force for?

Now that was an interesting question. It was so long ago now that I couldn't really remember. It certainly wasn't because I liked busting people. I'd only done a bare minimum of that over the years.

Thinking about it, I guess it was because of the Yammies...

You see the cops all had Yammies back then. Well, everyone had bikes in them days because there was less traffic and cars cost a bomb then too. And, as a kid, I just thought that was just the best job, to be riding around all day on an R1 and getting paid for it. So, once I dropped out of school I went down and applied at the cop shop. Of course, there weren't many busting down the doors to get in to the force then either so that made it a lot easier for me. Standards weren't tight: breathe and we'll take ya.

But the Yammies got phased out not long after and I was into a two and a half litre Ford along with everyone else. They weren't bad neither. Good pick up and they cornered well. I guess that made us miss the Yammies less...

Then the next thing you know I'm undercover in a courtesy car and staring down twin barrels.

Jeez! That Shell manager pulling the shottie had really given me a decent rark. I didn't know what we were going to do when we were face to face with these desperadoes. At least we'd have the jump on them. That was in our favour. That was about all...

What sort of psychos were these guys anyway? Pulling weapons on people. That wasn't the game!

Hopefully they were just wussies who were only good when the other fella wasn't equally armed up. They'd probably start bawling like babies if anyone else fronted. I hoped so.

I sneaked a look at Alex and wasn't surprised to see him looking at his gun. He was obviously worrying the same as me. We caught each other's eye and both slipped our Colts back out of sight to save embarrassment.

'So how'd ya get on with that Rachelle chick?' Alex asked after a moment's decency, 'shagged her yet?'

'It must be real sad having to sniff out other people's shags coz your own ones are so lame.'

Alex looked at my cellphone lying there on the dash. 'Go on. Give her a call. Ring up Guvvy's and get them to put her on.'

'Nah.'

'Go on! What the hell else are we doing?'

'Nah.'

'Why not?'

'Coz you're here ya idjit! You'd be listening in.'

'What? Why would I wanna listen in on ya teenage giggling for?' Alex started putting on a childish voice and pretending he was cuddling a phone. The bastard. 'Hi! What are you doing? Are you going to the dance on Saturday? Yeah, I like ponies too! Tee hee hee!'

'Shut it, Alex!'

'Go on! Ring her up. I won't listen, honest. I'll go into me cone of silence.'

'Your cone of what?'

'Cone of silence. You know, when you go – '

At this point he put his fingers in his ears and started making a godawful loud tone-deaf 'La la la la!' noise.

'Cut it out!'

'La! La! La! La!'

I ripped his hands away from his ears. 'Cut it out ya moron!'

Alex looked at me all mock-confused like. 'What's that? Sorry, I didn't hear ya. See, it musta worked. I didn't hear nothing,' with that he gave me a wink and the thumbs up in triumph.

'Just shut it, numbnuts. I ain't ringing no one for you to get your sad sack second-hand jollies.'

Alex gave me the finger and we went quiet for a few minutes. I started thinking about guns and the like again so I figured I better keep misting up the windows with my breath.

'So what was that "cone of whatever" you were doing?' I asked him, 'is that one of your muso things?'

'Eh? What? Oh nah, I dunno where it comes from. It's just this dumb thing people do. You know, like work. Or cutting your hair.'

'But I don't get it. Why "cone"? Why is it a "cone" of silence?'

'I dunno, Duane. But next time someone does it in front of me, I'll make sure I ask 'em for ya.'

'You do that.'

We sat quiet for a while waiting for something to happen. It wasn't much fun. I supposed this was what cops were supposed to do all the time but me and Alex had never really had to shape up to it before.

If we didn't find out who was doing wrong from someone down at the pub then there was no wrong being done in our eyes. And the eyes of most of Glenvale to be honest. We were a forgiving society on the whole. You'd have to seriously rark someone up to make them go seek out one of us Slayers of Evil for some justice.

I supposed that these Shell station banditoes were pretty rank though. They were letting the side down a bit by bouncing the suspension like this.

'I reckon these fellas must be from across the Western,' I said to break the cone-less silence.

'Yeah. I was thinking the same,' Alex said, 'they just don't seem like our kind of people do they?'

'Nah. Wouldn't it be a laugh if it turned out that they were from the boss' old stamping ground!'

Alex chuckled. 'Yeah. It would be! But it'd mean they'd have to cross the Western though.'

You see, like I said before, the boss wasn't from here. He lived on the city side of the Western, and still lives there even though he works over here.

"Big deal!" you say? Well, you've obviously never tried crossing over from the city to Glenvale in the morning or evening. It's a real shocker. Yeah, so it's okay going up and down the motorway but not for getting across it. You've got to start about two ramps up from where you're wanting to get off and fight like a bastard to get past about a kajillion lanes of hooting horns to do it. It's like the fellas who designed it really wanted to build a fence to keep the two sides apart. Honest, it is!

Not that we mind though. We're happy enough without them over here and I'm sure they feel the same about us.

But what it does show is how much the boss hates us Glenvalians. He's prepared to go through that crap twice a day just so he don't have to live here amongst us stinking hairy types. He must have to get up at the crack of 5am every morning, kiss his sleeping missus goodbye, slug back his coffee and roar off in the Audi in search of a road jam. No wonder he's always so shitty. He must have seriously thought about topping himself once he got the transfer over here.

'Jeez!' I said thinking about this, 'I dunno when I last crossed it.'

'I do every coupla weeks.'

I looked at Alex. This was surprising news. 'What do you need to go over there for?'

'Oh, you know, band practice,' he said looking a mite nervous, like he'd said too much.

'Yeah? I thought you did that at Jake's place? You got another secret band?'

'Well, kinda,' Alex said looking real shifty.

'Oh, I see!' I was getting majorly interested now, 'no wonder your Missus gets so grumpy all the time! You're always out muso-ing it up!'

'Piss off! You sound like her! It's only every coupla weeks or so!'

'So are you playing over there? For city fellas?'

'Well, nah. Not for anyone else. Just ourselves...'

'Jeez, Alex! What're you talking about? Some kinda kinky shit?'

'Nah!' Alex was really squirming now. It was plain he didn't want to say anymore, but he'd gone too far now. So he blurted out the next bit like he was coughing up a gutful of blood, 'we fool around with a bit of jazz!'

I was speechless.

He just stared at me real embarrassed and shameful.' There you are! I said it! So stuff ya!'

'Jazz?'

'Yeah! Jazz. Come on! You know what it's like for us playing that other shit in pubs all the time?' Alex said real pleading-like, 'it ain't much of a thrill no more. So we started doing some other stuff just for fun. It's okay, honest!'

I was real surprised at him, but I could sure see his point. I'd already wondered about what was in it for him and the others aside from the dough because they were way better than just behaving like out-of-date jukeboxes all the time.

'What? Debs too?'

'Nah, not her. She's got that thing with Pete. It's just me, Jake, Charlie and some others you don't know.'

'And you all go away to some secret hidey hole and play jazz amongst yourselves?'

'Yeah, well, we try to anyway.'

'What? You mean like "Scooby dooby do" stuff?'

'Ah, shuddup! I knew I shouldn't have told you!'

'I don't believe it, ' I said shaking the dust out of my flowing locks, 'I just can't believe we worked together all this time and you never told me.'

'That's right. I never did.'

I was actually a bit slutted about this but I wasn't going to let him see so I pretended to be real hurt the way soap opera people are. 'Oh Alex, how could ya do this to me? I thought we trusted each other!'

'Oh shuddup, ya egg.'

'After everything we been through!'

Alex kept his gob slammed this time so I got out my wooden spoon and gave him a bit of a stir. 'Ba da ba bup bup bah...'

He gave me an evil look back so I raised my hands in surrender. 'Sorry, man! I didn't mean it! It just stuck in my head, you know, the way dumbass songs always do.'

I had him there because Alex, of all people, knew that that was sadly true.

'Okay, well think of something else then!'

'Sure... Scooby do boo boo boop ba ba da ba da ba!'

He was looking real mad now but he wouldn't bite so I started doing fake trumpet solos until he grabbed my arm.

'Shuddup! Shuddup! SHUDDUP!'

Alex's face was black but I could tell that he knew why I was rarking him up. And now he was weighing up what else to tell me.

'I didn't tell you coz I knew you'd give me a hard time about it,' he said at last, 'like you just did!' he added with venom.

I held my hands up again. 'Hey, don't worry about me. You decide what's best. I'm only here on a needs to know basis... bud.'

Alex turned on me. He was really blazing now. 'I told you why and you're still giving me grief for not letting you give me grief! I just can't win! Ever!'

I thought I better get off his case, but then again, I was bored to bits.

'What else have you been holding out on me?' I asked after a time, 'are you a serial killer maybe? A firestarter? Perhaps even a Shell station robber?'

He ignored me. 'I just wish they'd hurry up and do some robbing or something. I'm sick of this already.'

'Me too.'

We sat quiet for another minute. But then I just can't help myself...

'Scooby dooby do...'

'Right! That's it!' Alex had the door open in a jiff and was half out before I pulled him back in.

'Okay! okay! okay! I'll can it, I'll can it,' I said and meant it this time, 'we've just gotta keep talking though coz I go nuts when it's quiet.'

Alex glared at me but sat down again and closed his door. 'All right, but I gotta say, you're the Prince of Rark!'

'Yeah, well sorry man. Tell me about the jazz.'

Alex looked at me sour again, 'I already told you everything and I sure wish I'd kept my big trap shut.'

I sighed. I was feeling tired now and was even getting bored of rarking Alex. And there was nothing, nothing, nothing happening to break the time.

'I didn't even know I-talians were so good at jazz,' I said settling back in my seat and closing my eyes to just slits.

'Sure we are,' Alex said grinning and he settled back too, 'ain't you never heard of Stephane Grappelli?' he said in a hoarse whispery Mafia-type voice.

'I've heard of Dizzy Gillespie,' I did likewise.

'Louie "the Satch".'

'Oscar "Fingers" Peterson.'

'Miles "The Lips" Davis.'...

~~~~

A PEEK AT THE GOLD WATCH

I was first to wake up. My toes, nose and balls were freezing and my neck was stiff from being twisted sideways tucking the head in under the wing.

The sun was already up although not enough to warm us up. But enough to suggest that we were already late for roll call down at the station. I wiped a hole in the foggy windscreen and squinted over at the Shell station. There were a few cars in there gassing up but no police vehicles crawling all over the forecourt. It looked like our banditoes hadn't hit Jessie Street yet.

I kicked Alex. 'Wakey, wakey, Princess! Quit drooling on me leopardskin!'

'What the – ?' he blinked and raised a defensive fist as he woke, 'ya bastard!' Once he realised where he was, he stretched and yawned, 'nothing happen last night?'

'Yeah, you were moaning and calling Burger's name in your beauty sleep. But aside from that; sweet f.a.' I turned the key and the Toyota fired up. It was nothing if not reliable, 'so there's no sense in just sitting here admiring the view. We may as well swing by the station and get some brekkie in.'

Alex managed to get a quick nod in before his head snapped back into the leopardskin as I dropped the clutch and aimed a Toyo-pedo at the Glenvale Central police station.

My toes were still chilly so I kept the pedals as close to the floor as possible so they could soak up the warmth of the engine below and they were just starting to thaw out as I slid down the ramp into the station basement carpark.

Even so, by the time we walked into the morning brief session everyone had gone except for James, one of the other Slayers of Evil, who even the crooks in Glenvale called "Brown Sugar" because he was just the sweetest guy. James' dark hands were giving each of the takeaway coffee cups the other detectives had left behind a quick shake to see if they still had anything left in them.

'Oh, here they come!' he chuckled at us, 'the Employees of the Month! Where've you two been hiding?'

'We had hair appointments,' I said with a wink as we strolled over, 'and Alex couldn't decide whether he wanted streaks or highlights!'

'Ah shuddup, ya eggburger!'

Brown Sugar struck gold and lifted a half full cup to his lips.

'Ugh!' Alex grunted, 'how can you drink that cold?'

Our colleague just finished his swig and sighed as a reply. 'Ahh! Just the way I like it.'

At that moment the gorgeous Frieda come out from the interrogation room wearing a low cut purple dress and a frown.

'You're her!' I shouted and walked over pointing at her, slapping my forehead as if I couldn't believe my eyes, 'you're the woman of my dreams!'

She didn't smile. 'The Captain wants to see you two,' she said, 'and I think he means right now.'

*

Even though the new boss had been here a while now, I still thought of his office as being old Tugger's. And many's the night I'd stumbled out of here blind drunk after yet another "reporting session" with my old boss. Tugger had had what seemed to be an endless supply of scotch, which isn't normally my poison of choice, but if someone's pouring it down your throat it'd be rude to spit it out again.

Tugger also hadn't been big on wall charts, unsolved case registers or wanted criminal mug shots neither but the new boss was more than making up for lost time with every available inch of wall space covered with To Do lists. I could be wrong but I reckon that this boss was taking his job a little bit more seriously than the last one had.

And as it wasn't enough to have all his walls being covered in paper, the boss also had some on his desk as well. He was looking at some of these when me and Alex wandered in.

'I trust you enjoyed yourself at the Governor's Tavern last night?' he glanced up at us as we shuffled over to stand in front of him.

Oh ho! Here we go! Either the jungle drummers had snapped their hands off at the wrist getting this news out so quick, or the boss had been parking up his spies around town. Still, there was no need to be a sarky bastard about it as well. I was tempted to give him a handy tip that no one likes a smart arse, but I had a feeling that he might not be keen to hear it at the moment. So I just thought I'd play along for a while.

'Yeah, it wasn't too bad as far as Guvvy seshes go.' I answered him with a yawn, 'we were celebrating a big time breakthrough in our case, you see.'

The boss started smiling at me. Not a friendly type of smile though. 'Oh, so you've already made an arrest then?'

'Well, no. Not yet, but we're closer than we were this time yesterday.'

'I'm sorry, but that doesn't sound like enough of a reason to start drinking during work hours to me.'

I was tempted to say that we never needed much of a reason to get drinking, but I also had a sneaking suspicion that our boss wasn't really in the right mood to start slapping his thigh at my wit. So I just kept my gob slammed for the moment.

'I also hear,' the boss went on consulting some notes that his sneaky prick spies had scribbled up for him, 'that you played Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide on a stakeout location?'

I glanced at Alex and then we both nodded.

'Involving the whole bar?'

This time we shrugged before nodding again.

'And had a barman drive you to the stakeout?'

'That's right, sir,' I celebrated unslamming my gob with a grin, 'good old Oscar stepped in once we'd had a few, coz we didn't wanna drink and drive.'

But the boss didn't seem that impressed by our socially responsible actions. 'I must say your unprofessionalism is the worst I've ever encountered in my entire career,' he said shaking his head, 'and never have I met a bigger disgrace to the badge, than you two standing here before me now.'

Jeez! That was a bit rough. I could be wrong, but it sounded like he was accusing us of being super useless. I'd better start defending our name. 'Oh, come on, sir! Cut us some slack! We're just taking a few baby steps here. After all, we're kinda new to this snuffling around after proper crooks mularky.'

'That couldn't be more apparent!' the boss was really riled up now, 'and that is no excuse whatsoever for your slovenly behaviour! Just give me one good reason why I shouldn't sack you right now!'

Ah, bullshit! To my mind, he'd already decided to give us the bum's rush, so there was nothing for it but to enjoy the moment...

'Frieda, sir,' I said giving him a wink, 'she'd be gutted if you sacked us. Coz she's got the hots for me something shocking.'

Alex snorted. 'Dream on, Duane!' he muttered, 'Frieda wouldn't let you touch her with someone else's bargepole!'

'What would you know, family man?' I shot back, 'I tell ya, one day real soon she'll be chafing my ear with that ankle bracelet of hers!'

The boss' face had gone all red looking. 'Be quiet, the pair of you!' he snapped, 'this isn't a joke! I am only a hair's breadth away from firing you both. It is only your long service with the force which has saved you from instant dismissal – '

Ha ha! We were out of jail! At the last second, the Black Hawk swoops clear of the hunter's lethal bullet! You'll have to do better than that, mere mortal, if you wish to tame the Lord of the Sky...

But the boss hadn't finished yet. ' – And how I'd love to make it a dishonourable discharge too, only you'd probably regard that as something to be proud of.'

Huh? I wasn't sure what he meant by that. I would have thought that being sacked was a dishonourable discharge. Maybe bosses and managers saw it different?

I did know that, for some reason, they all thought that being given a gold watch was a bad thing. I couldn't understand that, I'd be quite happy with one myself. A hocked gold watch could buy me a hell of a lot of bourbon shooters on a Tuesday night back at Guvvy's!

Meanwhile, the boss was still bending our ears. 'So, do you realise what trouble you are in?' he demanded, 'have I made everything clear enough for you?'

Yeah, yeah, yeah, we nodded. But I did have one question for him though. 'Who was the snitch at Guvvy's?' I asked, 'who sold us out to you?'

The boss snorted and shook his head as though he was super amazed at my request. 'All right,' he said, 'why not tell you? Come on in, Carl.'

Burger! I should've known it would've been him! The boss' office back door opened and the sneaky prick himself came shuffling in from where he'd had his greasy ear up against the keyhole.

The bastard! I'd never seen him there at Guvvy's. He must have been hiding behind the stage somewhere. 'You dirty lowlife scumbag!' I snarled at him.

'Look who's talking, Mr. Lose-r Ah ha ha!' Burger sneered back although I could see that at least he had the decency to look a bit embarrassed about it all.

The boss pointed a finger at me and Alex. 'Now, don't you go blaming anyone else for your own inadequacies!' he said leaning forward at us. 'Officer Burger was simply following orders – my orders! I told him to follow you and report your actions back to me.' Here, the boss got out of his chair so he could walk around while he sunk the boot in, 'you see, right from the start I have had absolutely zero confidence in your ability to make headway on this case, and I have seen nothing so far to alter my opinion one iota. Yesterday's many indiscretions have only reinforced this further.'

He walked back around behind his desk again and sat down sighing as though the exercise had worn him out. 'Therefore, gentlemen, you now have only one chance left. You have 48 hours to change your spots and come up with some genuine progress otherwise...' here he looked at both me and Alex in turn, '...I will engineer a straight swap between you two and Officers Burger and Rice. They will become the detectives, while you two go back into uniform. Then, it will be your turn to follow them around all day, every day, learning from them how to become proper police detectives.' The boss raised an eyebrow at me, 'how does that sound to you, Detective Mullett?'

I glared at Burger who smirked back. 'That sounds pretty goddamn crappy to me, sir.'

The boss turned his attention to Alex. 'And you, Detective Szabo?'

'Yeah, man, it sucks real hard.'

Our superior officer smiled. 'Excellent! Finally, we understand each other. Now get out there and earn your right to a badge!'

~~~~

I DREAD TO THINK

Back in the Toyota I hit the road as fast as I could. I wasn't aiming to go anywhere in particular but I always found that I thought better when I was driving.

What the hell was happening to me? Just a couple of days ago everything was fine and now all hell had broken loose and the Pamplona bulls were running wild through my life.

I don't know, maybe the boss was right and I was too slack for my job. Maybe I really should sharpen up a bit. Times were definitely changing around Glenvale, you even had to put money in parking meters nowadays or else you'd get no end of parking tickets.

My partner's voice busted in on my golden thoughts. 'Where are we going, Duane?'

'I think it's time for me to drop by Kurt's place,' I sighed and then shook the dust out of my flowing locks in amazement, we actually were almost around at his house! It was like the Black Hawk had been steering me there himself.

'Whaddya wanna go talking to that dipstick for?' my partner grumbled, 'the clock's ticking remember!'

'Eh?' I snapped back, 'we've got plenty of time. The boss gave us four days to come up with something.'

Alex scrunched up his nose at this. 'I thought he said 48 hours, and that's only two days ain't it?'

'Four times twelve is fortyeight, numbnuts. At least, it was when I last went to school.'

'Huh! You sure you can remember that far back, Duane?'

'Course I can,' I said with a wink, 'my third form maths teacher was a feminist so she'd burnt all her bras. How can you forget a thing like that?'

I wrenched up the handbrake and squealed around to a stop outside Kurt's place on the other side of the road.

'I won't be long,' I told my partner, 'you stay here and guard my car against any more parking tickets.' Then, without waiting for the finger, I jumped out of the car and ran down the steps to Kurt's basement apartment.

Now while Kurt may have a ponytail and wear linen pants, he's been my mate for a real long time and is just about the smartest and wisest fella I know. So whenever I got into serious shit or just needed some advice on how to get a nasty stain out of a shirt, Kurt was who I went to see.

Kurt was about the same age as me and lived by himself in a oneroomed apartment that had been someone's garage once, and frankly, could be again with very few changes. But Kurt didn't mind it being a bit basic as he wasn't really into material stuff, except for linen pants, silk shirts and hair ties I guess.

Having one big room had also meant he could set up his philosophy circuit at home, which was kind of like a weights circuit at the gym but Kurt had included things from different religions and martial arts into his. I found him lying on his back on the floor throwing a heavy-looking medicine ball onto his stomach once I'd climbed in through the street-level window.

'Hey man, I thought that sounded like you outside,' he said in his usual mellow voice.

You see, Kurt was different to most of the rest of us in Glenvale and it wasn't just in the clothes department. He talked in a real soft voice that you had to almost strain to hear, whereas the rest of us all pretty much screech and roar at each other like we were all farm animals in a barn on fire. He also had a way of waiting a couple of seconds before he started to speak, which again was different, as the rest of us always seemed to be in a race to be first to mouth off.

'Heya, fella,' I said to him, then I couldn't wait any longer so I blurted out all the stuff that had happened to me recently. About how the boss had singled me and Alex out for his attentions and how we'd had a Winchester shoved up our nostrils at the Shell station. Kurt listened to all of this without saying anything and just nodded every now and then like he'd been expecting me to say this.

'Sounds like you've been busy,' he said putting down the medicine ball and picking up a pair of nun chuckers. Then he started to do a routine with them and he wasn't bad at it neither, so I kept well clear. 'Over there in my gym bag you'll find a little black book,' Kurt said as he swung the ninja weapons around, 'open it to page E.'

I wasn't happy about this. It was a bit of a golden rule that you should never read another fella's little black book, because you never know whose name you'll find in there. Kurt saw that I was holding back and nodded some encouragement for me. 'Go for it, man.'

I found his worn-looking book and opened it to where he said. I was surprised to see that it wasn't full of phone numbers but full of quotes from dead famous people instead. All written out by Kurt himself so he could dig one out when he needed it. It was a good idea really as I reckon it'd be hard to remember them word-perfect off the cuff all the time. I had trouble remembering my own name sometimes.

'Read out the one three from the top,' Kurt said wincing with effort. The nun chucker stuff must be real tiring on the arms.

'"Enlightenment cannot be described, only experienced",' I looked up at my pony-tailed mate who now put down the nunchakus and started squatting down like he was going to meditate. 'What does that mean?'

'Quotes aren't questions, man, they're answers,' Kurt said closing his eyes and taking some deep breaths.

I still didn't get it. 'Uhh, so what does that mean?'

To my surprise, Kurt didn't get pissed off with my dumbness. 'It means that if you don't understand the answer, maybe you don't understand the question yet.'

Woo! That was heavy stuff. But that was why I came here I guess. And while I wasn't sure if I knew half of what he was talking about, I thought I was getting a bit of a gist. 'So, you reckon that's what could've happened to me? That I got "enlightened"?' I asked.

Kurt nodded with his eyes closed, quite hard for him. 'Definitely. It's only when you are afraid for your life that you are able to detach yourself from your mortal concerns.'

Huh? I'd never been unable to detach from any of my "mortal concerns" before. Usually they just shoved me off when I'd finished so they could have a smoke. And I'd never been afraid for my life neither. Well, except maybe once, when that crazy giggling chick had come back to bed with a big knife...

'Ah bullshit! I wasn't afraid of nothing!'

Kurt just grinned at this news. 'Yeah okay, Duane. My mistake. You weren't afraid of nothing.'

I just nodded at this though I suspect that both of us knew real well I'd been packing bricks back there.

'You're also pretty fortunate really,' he said after a minute, 'not everybody gets to experience something like that in their whole lives.'

'Lucky bastards!' I said out loud in reply, but secretly I was stone chuffed to have been picked out from the rabble.

'Oh, it's not luck,' Kurt said frowning at me, 'it means you've been chosen.'

'Chosen? What for?'

My mate opened his eyes and looked at me for a moment before speaking. 'I can't tell you what for, that's always up to you. Read the Drucker one on page F.'

I flipped over the page. '"The best way to predict your future is to create it yourself"?' I wasn't sure that I was getting the full drift of this, 'what? So you're saying I should go see a fortune teller?'

Kurt pulled a face at me then got up to come over and take the book back. He flipped through a few pages. 'Think of it like what Buddha says, 'what you are is what you have been, and what you will be is what you do now.'

'That sounds like Bono!' I said, 'now you can't go telling me he's the Buddha!'

Now Kurt was pissed off and he shook his head as he put his little black book back in his gym bag. 'Look, I dunno if I can help you if you're just going to take the piss, Duane. All I will say is; you can't go discovering new lands without losing sight of the shore.'

And that was it, he went back to his meditating with a grumpy look on his face so there was nothing for me to do but climb back out the window onto the street again.

I couldn't understand these smart guys' attitude, why talk in a jumble so no one could understand what you were talking about? Frankly, I would have thought the whole point of being a genius was to spell everything out for the rest of us so we didn't keep making screw ups all the time. I guess that's why the world's so full of idiots.

What the hell did all that "make up your own future" stuff mean anyway? It sounded like I ought to be making the calls on what happened in my own life. Well, that was fine for things like what time I got up in the morning, how much piss I drank at a party and what clothes I wore to work. But how was I supposed to take charge of things like when someone was going to shove a gun in my face?

~~~~

A NEFARIOUS ACT

Back out in the car I didn't get much time to think about what Kurt had just said as Alex was buzzing into my ear as soon as I opened the door.

'I've worked it out, fortyeight hours is only two days. You were wrong.'

'Says who?' I asked as I sat down and slotted my key into the ignition.

'Says Einstein, ya egg!' my partner sneered back, 'there's 24 hours in every day right? 12 at night and 12 during the day, and two times 24 is 48. Not four.'

Dammit! It sounded like he was right, but stuffed if I was going to admit that straight out. 'I'm real happy for you, Alex,' I said taking my hand away from the key so I could look at him, 'and it's so good that you had something to keep you busy while I was gone. I'll try and come up with another equation for you, ready for next time.'

My partner just pointed at the sky with his middle finger. 'So what are we gonna do now?' he demanded.

'Well, I thought we might make up our own future and go try and catch some Shell banditoes, myself.' I scratched my chin as though I was thinking real hard about his question, 'for no real reason, except maybe to just keep us from twiddling our thumbs all day. Why? Do you wanna do some more algebra or something?'

'Yeah, but twiddling our thumbs is all we'll end up doing if we go to a stake out now. Why don't we go and have another look at the map and see if anything more jumps out?'

I couldn't see much point in doing this. To my mind the map would still look exactly the same as it did yesterday, unless Alex had used it to write down some fresh jazz chords he'd thought up in the shower. But, then again, he was right about the stake out. The banditoes had always robbed at night, so unless they'd changed their evil ways, we'd just waste a day sitting in the Toyota waiting for them in daylight.

'All right,' I said, 'just this once we'll do what you want. Though I gotta tell ya, I still don't want to shag that Missus of yours no matter how often you try palming her off on me!'

But once we got back to his place I found out that I'd been tricked by my sneaky prick partner. Because as soon as we got inside he started talking about watching the videotape we'd set up yesterday.

'Well, the Missus rang while you were in there nattering with that nob mate of yours,' Alex said with a shrug after I'd had him up about it, 'she'd spotted some more porno mags missing this morning so we should have old Lightfingers himself pulling his pants down there on our tape.'

I shook the dust out of my flowing locks. 'Hey! What happened to all the "we've only forty eight hours – aka two days – to save the world!" panic then?'

Alex pulled a face as we wandered into the Missus' part of their apartment. 'Oh, come on! We're screwed as far as our jobs go and we both know it. We're never gonna catch no one so I may as well get in the good books with her before I get the bum's rush.'

'Oh, forget it, chump! I reckon you're too far gone to ever get out of the doghouse with her,' I laughed which, in hindsight, probably wasn't too helpful.

'Cheers, Duane,' Alex grumbled back at me as he jumped up on the footstool in his Missus' shop part of their house, 'you're always a boost to have around, you know that eh?'

I did feel a bit bad about the cheap crack, especially as he'd spared me from another parking ticket and all, so I just canned my wit while he dragged down the camera from behind the paperbacks.

'Where is the Missus anyway?' I asked.

'Dropping Axl off at school,' Alex said as he popped the tape out of the camera and took it through into the lounge. I just followed and watched while he stuck the tape in then we both settled back on the leopardskins for some quality viewing.

It was a pretty boring movie on the whole I've got to say, even though Alex was fast-forwarding it constantly to get to the juicy bits. All we were watching was just grainy black and white footage of a never-ending series of characters coming in and buying this and that from Alex's Missus. At first, both me and Alex kept leaning forward at each new customer, straining to see some nefarious acts being performed. But after a while we slacked off a bit as there was nothing going on.

Some of the characters were in and out like a lawyer to the betting shop, but some others stuck around to chew the fat with the Missus for a bit. She was pretty good at her job it seemed to me. Going by the body language, she never looked like she wanted to kick anyone out for boring the tits off her, which should surely happen half the time. Being so nice to everyone was probably how she managed to survive off this tin pot business I reckoned.

I was just about to say that maybe yesterday was a public holiday for shoplifters when me and Alex both suddenly leaned forward like we were hunting dogs who'd just heard a rabbit fart.

'Did you see that?' I asked and Alex just rewound the tape a bit as his reply.

Yep! There it was again! The little old lady who'd come in to jaw away at the Missus had just whipped the mags when she turned away for a second. I honestly couldn't believe my eyes!

'Who the hell is that?'

Alex took a moment to answer, and when he did his voice was like someone else talking.

'That's the Missus' Step-Nana.'

'Step-Nana?'

'Yeah. Her Ma's fella's ma,' he said shaking his mane a bit now, 'she comes in all the time for a yak. You know what oldies are like.'

'Jeez! Well, I thought I did. But how low is that? She's nicking stuff off her own granddaughter!'

'Step-granddaughter. She's not the Missus' real Nana. They're not really related. Well, no more than anyone else is.'

'All the same! You'd think there'd be at least a little smidge of family loyalty there wouldn't you? Wedding bells or not!' I shook the dust out of my flowing locks in disgust, 'a little old lady flogging porn! Is there not one single bastard left out there who you can safely bet ten cents on not to rip you off?'

Alex was starting to look sick. I guess this must be real embarrassing for him even if – as he'd been super-quick to point out – she wasn't actually kosher flesh and blood. I could've had myself a field day doing the River Dance on his ribs about this – and I'm sure bloody Burger and Rice wouldn't have hesitated for a second! But he was my partner and if he shit his pants, it was my car that stank.

So I clapped my hand on his shoulder. 'Don't worry about it, fella. We'll sort it, just you and me. No one else ever needs to know.'

Alex looked real grateful to me for that, but I could see he was still gutted as he kept rewinding the tape and watching her filching the mags over and over again. I decided to keep going, talk up some action to get him out of this blue mood.

'When we get a minute let's get on down to that Sunset Lodge hideout of your Nana's,' I said, 'we'll duff her up a bit, grab the merchandise, wrap it all in a big pink ribbon and drop it on your Missus' counter and keep mum about the who and the why. Or even step-mum if you'd rather!'

I couldn't resist that one! Alex didn't seem too impressed though.

'We're not really going to duff her over are we?' he asked.

'Well, maybe a little,' I said, 'I, for one, really wouldn't mind knowing the "why" on this one.'

Alex nodded. 'Yeah, I was wondering a bit about that too. But she's pretty old and can't take too much argy bargy.'

'Well, how can we be sure?' I asked with a wink, 'she obviously ain't so old that she doesn't have needs that have to be seen to! And I've gotta say, it's a horror movie thinking up how she gets round to doing that! For all we know she could be a real wildcat under that wrinkly exterior. And maybe I was a bit hasty ruling out a need for back up!'

Alex shook his head. 'Now you're really pissing me off! She's just a harmless little old lady and there's gotta be a straight up reason why she's developed light fingers all of a sudden.'

Then he bit his own fingers and stared at the tape hard as though his Step-Nana was going suddenly turn around to face us and spill the beans via the camera right here and now.

It was my turn to shake my head. 'So many suppositions! And you know that ain't good police technique my friend.'

There was the sound of a car outside and we both knew it was the Missus coming back to open up her shop. Alex jumped up to snatch the evidence from the video player so I just gave him a soundtrack while he was at it.

'Let's get some facts in first before we rip off any more wild theories,' I said, 'and in the meantime I say you better lock up that guitar pick collection of yours whenever your Nabbing Nana comes sniffing round for fresh dress patterns!'

~~~~

ALEX'S MISSUS' STEP-NANA'S SECRET

The Sunset Lodge was on the west edge of town and was no more likely to see a sparkling sunset than any other place in the city except maybe places just to the east of the great concrete spans of the Western. I reckon whoever named the place must have decided to have a bit of fun at our elderly citizens' expense.

They must have also made a huge saving on architect fees too as it looked like they'd just re-used the plans for our local Stoneleigh prison and changed the logo. All that was missing was the watchtowers and guards with guns. Concrete must be a damn sight cheaper than glass around here that's for sure and a more gruesome grey place of misery you've never seen. She was grim.

Both me and Alex stood beside the Toyota and checked it out for a minute or so in silence before we made our way toward the office. Suddenly we were starting to see his Step-Nana's side of the argument for getting up to mischief. You'd get up to anything to relieve the shackles of cooling your heels in this place!

We got inside and found more concrete. There were also oldies in varying states of disrepair shuffling around everywhere in dressing gowns and some of them were being herded this way or that by mean-looking younger ones in white jumpsuit uniforms. I reckon I even saw one of the young ones with something that looked real similar to a cattle prod.

'Come on!' I said to Alex while he was standing gawping vacantly at an inmate rollcall list on the wall in the foyer. 'Pull finger! Otherwise we'll end up old enough to stay here!'

Finally he sussed out the Step-Nana's locale and we were piling into the lift and off to her floor. I felt better once we were out of sight of that lobby but reckoned I could still hear that shuffling of slippers on lino even through the steel walls of our elevator.

When the doors opened on the 6th floor, we strolled out of the lift and wandered along the hallway looking for a door with '618' stamped into it. We'd almost reached it when a voice called out to us from across the hall.

'Hey boys! How're you doing?'

We looked over and there through the open door of the cell was an old fella. Well, I say old fella but he didn't really look that old. Not as old as some of the others in this place that's for sure. He was tallish with curly hair that had grey in it to about a one in five ratio and a moustache of about the same. He was wearing a dark old suit and had been reading the paper on his bed and listening to the races on of them old radios you paint a house with. He must have heard us through the open door and creaked up off his bunk to come check us out.

'Off to have a few beers eh?' he gave us a bit of a wink and I could see he had a twinkle in his eye. He looked like a real character and I could remember getting playful horsey-bites on my forearms and thighs from fellas like him when I was just a kid. Ma had always called them "Uncle This or That" but they were probably just stopping by to buy or sell a car and were no real relation. Sometimes the fellas would tease me and my brother or tell us a joke and they always had a way of talking that made you always want to hear more.

'Well, not right now, Smiley, but we just might later,' I said to him and glanced over at Alex who shrugged and nodded. 'You fancy coming along with us for a couple?'

I thought the old fella would light up like a drag starting tree at the thought of getting clear of this dowdy old place for a bit but he didn't really seem to be listening to what I'd said. 'Having a few beers eh? Having a few beers!' was all he could say and it sounded like a sort of song he sang to himself all the time.

It started to dawn on Alex and me as to why he was in here. The poor old coot was as crazy as a chick in a muslin shop. 'Yeah,' I said, 'we're knocking a few back. We'll have one for you too later.'

This seemed to please him and he chuckled and got all excited looking. 'Having a few beers! Having a few beers!' We just nodded and hurried away over to knock on Alex's Missus' Step-Nana's door.

Lucky for us she opened up real quick for an oldie. She must have heard the commotion and got a headstart for the door. She unwrapped a smiling look for Alex and a shifty one for me.

'Alex, ya bastard! What're you doing here? Come on, don't be shy, get in here.' She didn't say nothing to me and I could see her brain was ticking over as to why I'd be tagging along on a social call. Especially seeing as I was Alex's partner and a cop and all. We went in and she shut the door behind us real quick.

'Sorry, Nan, but we seem to have rarked up ya neighbour,' Alex said jerking his thumb back over his shoulder.

'Oh, don't worry about that prick, he's as harmless as a Jew with a ham sandwich!' she said looking at me again, 'unless you give him a crate of piss, then watch out!'

She cackled away about that one but with my detective's eye I could see she was busting to know what I was doing here. Still, she didn't come out with it so maybe her guilty conscience was shouting it down as just taunting trouble. Instead she went over and switched on an electric jug on the bench of her mini-kitchen.

'Sit down! Sit down the pair of ya!' she said over her shoulder and we did as we were told. It was easier said than done too. I'd stop short of calling the place a pigsty but it was more full of stuff than it needed to be. I suppose you've got to expect that with our elderly citizens as they've got to try and pack a lifetime's worth of junk into the one cell once they get the boot out of their house or flat. And I suppose it gets hard to suddenly start chucking stuff when you've carted it round with you for fifty years or more.

After playing chess with nick-nacks and folded washing for a bit, me and Alex parked ourselves on a couple of chairs and glanced about the room while we waited for her to finish mucking about with the tea. She was one of them old ones who didn't just chuck tea bags into the cups and pour hot water over them like everyone else. She put the bags into a teapot first then wiggled it back and forth for a bit before pouring it into the cups. I bet she never used to do that when she was younger. I've seen this type of behaviour before and cooked up a bit of a theory about it: I reckon that there must be some point in a chick's life when she suddenly decides that just cups won't do no more and she'll have to slip out and get herself a teapot. I haven't managed to nail down exactly when that is yet but I'll keep my eyes open and let you know when I've figured it.

After about two and a half centuries Alex's Missus' Step-Nana finally finished mucking about in her kitchenette and brought us over a mug of tea each. Now, I'd like to be able to say it was worth the wait, but if I did, I'd be first to admit I was bullshitting you.

'So, Al, I don't see you round here much ya bastard!' the Step-Nana said while she watched us burn our lips on the filthy tea, 'you fellas just in the neighbourhood were ya?'

Alex cleared his throat. It wasn't an easy subject to get around to but my partner wasn't going to let that faze him.

'Nah, Nan. We're here to get them porno mags you've been flogging off the Missus.'

As you might expect, this went down like hymns at a race meet. 'What the hell are ya talking about? Coming in here and hassling an old lady about – '

'We've got you on tape, Nan,' Alex said real quiet and depressed-like and that shut her up fast. She looked at Alex, then she looked at me. I reckon she was suddenly looking like a little canary bird that had been cornered by a couple of mean-ass alley cats looking for a break from trashcan chow.

'Oh, ya did, did ya?' she said and it was like all her fire had gone out. She looked real old and sad now and I was starting to hate being in this place with a passion. 'Well, whaddya waiting for, Officer?' she asked, turning to me and holding her thin old wrists out like barbeque skewers. 'That's what you're here for ain't it? To arrest me? Well, you've got all the evidence you need so why don't you just get it over with?' then she sort of sobbed a bit, 'I ain't scared of no jail. Wouldn't make a heap of difference anyway...'

I just held my tongue and looked on like I was a statue carved out of meat. This was family shit and I wasn't dumb enough to wade into that. I was just here in partner-only mode.

'Come on, Nan!' Alex butted in semi-angry, 'we ain't gonna chuck you in jail! I've only busted a handful of people since I've been in blue. Do you think I'd be boasting about adding your name?'

Alex's words had a big effect. His Missus' Step-Nana was really crying now. It was this real awful dry sobbing mixed in with a donkey-like bray as she caught her breath. It wasn't fun to listen to at all and I was wanting to get the hell out of the room real bad.

Alex made his voice go all soft now, 'I just want you to give us back the mags. And promise not to nick any more.'

I thought his Step-Nana would be happy about this news, but she didn't show it. Instead, she just pointed over at a pile of mags under some half-done crochet doily things and snarled, which I thought was a mite ungracious considering. 'They're over there! Help yourself!'

Alex glanced at me and I got up and wandered over to where she'd pointed. There were some top titles in there too: International Pornstars, Dark Secrets, Lusty Busty. All definitely readable! I had some back issues under the bed at home myself.

Which made me wonder all the more why. But I guess that once you get to that age, it doesn't make much difference which sex you're looking at, she's all a bit of a thrill seeing all that young flesh on a silver platter like that.

'I just don't get it, Nan,' Alex was saying, 'why'd you take all these?'

'Go on! Just take 'em! Don't give me none of your pig interview!'

Now both me and Alex got sore at this. Us cops hate being called that! I mean, who would? Except maybe a pig himself?

'Just cut it out, Nan!' Alex said, all hacked off, 'unless you want me to bust you after all!' He suddenly looked sly, 'or maybe you want me to tell the Missus?'

It worked a treat. His Step-Nana had fear in her eyes. 'Oh no! Don't do that!' she said and grabbed hold of Alex's shirt. 'Please, no!'

'Then tell me why!'

She looked beat. 'All right, ya bastard! I took 'em... well, they weren't for me. At least, not directly.' She sat down and sighed. This was going to be hard from the looks of things, 'I took 'em so the grandkids would come and see me.'

Huh?

'Well, you bastards never bring 'em anymore! And it's hard to get 'em to come by themselves all the way out here! And I figured they'd be much more likely to come if they knew there was some – some reward for them when they got here!'

Alex was real mad at this news, 'Axl? Did Axl read them?'

'No... well, yes... once maybe! I can't remember! Oh I'm sorry, Alex! But I get so lonely here!' she clutched hard at him, scrabbling at his face. 'I live for the little beggars coming to see me! Don't stop 'em! I'll not have mags again! Here! Take 'em! Take 'em away!'

At this point, I figured I wasn't able to help much anymore and would just get in the way of them sorting it out. So I slipped quietly out the door...

*

I had to wait a good twenty minutes out in the corridor before Alex came out to join me carrying his Missus' stolen stick mags. He didn't say nothing once he caught up with me and the two of us just rode the elevator down again in total quiet. But once the doors opened on the ground floor I figured we'd waited long enough for him to get his dignity back, I decided to kick start the subject again.

'So,' I said, 'what are we gonna tell your Missus then?'

Alex didn't look at me as we crossed the lobby toward the front doors. 'I dunno,' he said at last, 'even if we told her the truth she'd still think we were taking the piss!'

He was right. But there wasn't anything to be gained by pointing that out so I just made a handy suggestion instead. 'What say we just tell her that we saw it was some kids who flogged them? Then we could say that we shook 'em down, scared 'em up and they won't be doing it again.'

'I guess so,' said Alex looking all thoughtful at the stick mags in his hands as we walked through the big double automatic doors, 'and it's kinda half true at least.'

'Well, you'd be right there, partner,' I said breathing a sigh of relief as we were out in the sunshine again, 'and that's more than enough to get by in this town!'

~~~~

A RANK JOB

When we got out to the car I had another ugly surprise waiting in store. You guessed it, another bloody parking ticket!

I ought to be getting used to them by now but they still ripped my nightie like it was my first ever.

'What's up with them Traffic pricks?' I snatched the ticket off the windscreen and shook it at the sky in rage, 'they should know it's me! Us! That they're not supposed to give tickets to their Enforcement brethren!'

Alex just sighed and tossed his mane. 'Well, that's Traffic for ya. They don't give a rat's arse about badges or nothing. We're just more suckers to them, and just as juicy as the next prick.'

We got into the car and I did some quick sums in my head. It was getting worse by the day. 'Jeez, I'm more than $600 down now! How the hell am I supposed to pay that?'

Dark ominous clouds came whooshing in from over the distant hills blocking out the sun as I walked along a dirt road in the middle of endless green fields...

Alex's voice broke in on my reverie. 'Don't worry about it. I know a guy who works in Traffic. He can get you off.'

Suddenly a gap appeared in the brooding clouds overhead and a ray of golden light from the setting sun picked me out as I stood there on the road. 'Yeah? You know a guy who can get me off the ticket?'

'Well, nah,' Alex said. 'I was just having ya on about that, but he does work there. In security.'

I couldn't believe it. The golden sunlight disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, blocked out by a mortar shell that whistled through the gap in the clouds and landed bang smack right in the dirt between my feet and blew my body into ragged pieces.

'What use is that to me? Ya bloody reject!'

Alex looked over at me with a hurt expression. 'Jeez! Don't let that gift horse bite your bloody fingers off!'

'I'm serious, ya moron! These fines are killing me!'

'Well, maybe my guy could put a word in for you. If you weren't such a prick!'

I wasn't buying it. The clouds were raining claw hammers onto my smoking body parts now as they lay strewn amongst the grass. 'What good's that gonna do? They're never gonna listen to no security guy! You said yourself a badge means nothing to them. But maybe he can help us in other ways...'

Alex quit his sulking and looked at me suspicious. 'What "other ways"?' he asked.

'Desperate times call for desperadoes,' I said slamming the Toyota into gear, a plan forming in my head...

*

'No bloody way! You're spinning out, man!'

We were parked on the street outside the Traffic Department building where Alex's mate worked security. I'd just outlined my plan to Alex but, as you may have figured out, he wasn't too hot for it. 'What's the point of doing that?'

'To get rid of my tickets! Why else, ya numbnuts?'

'You're nuts! This ain't Mission Impossible! Even if we got in how are we gonna crack their computer system? I don't know how to figure out passwords and stuff like that!'

I was starting to get real rarked with my so-called "partner". Here was a golden chance for him to back me up and he'd gone straight for rolling around on the floor and whining about it. 'We don't need to crack no computers! We just need to swipe their ticketing things that they walk around the street busting my car with.'

'You're crazy, man! I want nothing to do with it.'

'Well, you have to coz you're gonna help me get in.'

'What?'

'You know a guy there don't you?'

'The security guy, yeah...' the sun was shy about shining on Alex's mangy swede, but it dawned there in the end, 'oh no, no way!'

'Yeah, man! It's easy! You just keep him talking while I nip in and swipe their ticket things – '

'No! I'll get blamed for it!'

'Okay! Okay! I won't swipe them then. I'll just – I'll just misplace them. Drop them down behind the radiator or something. I just need to delay paying my tickets for a while. Until next payday at least...'

'Why don't you just not pay them?'

'Are you kidding? And get late penalties as well! The bastards are screwing enough cash outta me as it is without me volunteering more!'

Alex begged me. 'I don't know, Duane. What if we get caught? We'll get our arses kicked for centuries!'

'No one will catch us!'

'But what if they do?'

'People will love us for doing it! Everyone hates the traffic punks! We'll be famous like Bonnie and Clyde!

'Yeah, but they were bank robbers, ya eggspoon! We're supposed to be cops!'

'We're supposed to be partners, that's what we're supposed to be!' I said with maximum rark, 'but maybe only one of us is a partner. The other one checks in and out when he feels like it!'

Alex looked real glum at this. He knew I was right in that he was being a softcock but still the bastard was holding out on me. He was sitting there shaking his head like he was thinking that that still wasn't enough to tempt him out of the shadows.

I was going to have to get cynical on him.

'You gotta do it or I tell everyone about your Step-Nana.'

'You bastard!' Alex's fingers were around my throat in a flash. It was an embarrassment. I locked my hands between his and broke his feeble grip like I was snatching a bourbon off a drunk at the bar. Then I poked a stern finger into his chest, 'I didn't wanna do it but you forced my hand. You think I enjoy bulldozing you into stuff?'

Alex looked at me with an expression that wasn't too friendly. 'Frankly,' he said, 'the jury ain't been convinced on that one.'

'Well sneer it up all you like, pal, but we're doing it – for both our sakes' now.

I left it at that. Poor old Alex may be stabbing a voodoo doll of me now but I wouldn't have to rark him up any more about putting his shoulder to the wheel. He knew I was bastard enough to carry out my word. And he was also smart enough to know that the sooner we got this rank job out of the road, the sooner we'd be out of range of any potential shit cannon. He'd be sharp and I'd see no more sulking on the job.

~~~~

MR TFG341

'Where the hell is your guy?'

We'd parked down the road from the Traffic Department building and were scoping it from a safe distance. But there was no one in sight. Not even Alex's security guard mate.

Alex looked real embarrassed. 'Looks like he's gone and buggered off somewheres. He ain't on the job anyway. His car isn't there neither.'

'Shit, bloody Glenvale eh?' I shook the dust out of my flowing locks in disgust and tried to figure out how this was going to mess up my plan. 'Well, we dunno whether he's just sloped off for a midnight snack or whether he's dead drunk in a ditch. But it doesn't matter, we can't sit around waiting for him to pose for the camera. We'll just have to be as quick as a Friday night shag and keep our eyes peeled for his lazy butt.' A nasty thought occurred to me. 'Buggeration! That also means that we'll have to crack the door lock too!'

Still, all wasn't lost. I'd done well to bring Alex along for this job because he could still prove mighty useful right about now. You see Alex could boast some truly nefarious skills with locks and alarms and such. It was a fact that he didn't broadcast much but he was pretty damn good at cracking them. Not due to being crooked but due to his career as a muso because most of the places him and his band played at were run by guys who literally couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery. So Alex and the others were always being left locked out of pubs and clubs because the manager got the night wrong or forgot to leave the stage door unlocked for them while he was busy shagging a barmaid. Alex had soon got tired of standing out in the rain all the time so he'd gone and developed some enviable skills forcing his way in to all sorts of joints so he could get on with setting up his band gear and all. It was these skills we would need now that his mate had done a runner on us.

Meanwhile Alex wasn't really listening to me though, he was still hacked off about his mate. 'Bloody Dave! What a useless prick! To think I got him a bar job last year too.'

I was impatient to get this over. 'Yeah, well don't take him off your Christmas card list just yet, or else everyone'll know it was us who spilled the shaker. You reckon you can crack their locks?'

My partner in crime made a grim face. 'That depends doesn't it. If it's like our pushbutton code back at the station, it's a piece of piss. I can do them drunk. But if it's a siren, we're shagged. Coz even if I got us in we'd be bound to trigger off the motion sensors ratting around inside.' He shrugged and glanced at me, 'but I guess there's only one way to find out...'

I nodded and we left the Toyota down the road and stole along in the shadows toward the door. As we got closer I could see there was a push button coder on the wall at the side. That made my heart lift out of my boots a bit. Alex ought to be able to crack that!

But to my surprise, he didn't go toward the door and instead nipped off down the alleyway at the side of the building. I fought the urge to demand to know what the hell he was doing and just followed. Then I almost bashed into the back of him as he'd come to a sudden stop outside one of the ground floor windows and started peering in.

'Can't see nothing,' Alex whispered and I guessed he was looking for the motion sensors up in the corners of the ceiling. As I watched he then reached into his pocket and pulled out a bit of wire and started wangling it around the window. 'With no sensors there's no point in forcing the door,' he went on, 'it's just as easy to go in here. Guvvy's and the Railway Tav have windows like these. Dunno why they bother, they may as well just have a tentflap.' And right on cue the window popped open. 'There you go,' he added with more than a hint of pride, 'ready sliced!'

Jeez, that was easy! I guess the traffic fellas must have thought no one'd be mental enough to bust into a cop shop. Well, they thought wrong. And, after we'd scrambled awkwardly in through the window, I was tempted to leave a note suggesting a security upgrade, starting with one crap useless nightwatchman called "Dave".

Inside, visibilty wasn't so poor as there was a streetlamp just outside spilling its guts in through the window so we were able to cruise around looking for ticketing machines without too much stumbling going on. And it didn't take too long till Alex was first to spot them hung up there on the wall. Then we were into it, flicking through the stub receipts like we were counting cash. Which, in a way, we were – hard-earned cash that rightfully belonged to me and fellas like me. Cash that ought to have stayed in our back pockets, at least long enough until we were able to pay for all our car repairs.

It was truly amazing how many people a day these guys busted! You could give yourself a repetitive strain injury going through the ticket stubs for any of these bastards. Honestly, me and Alex were in the wrong division of the force! There was so much dosh passing through this office that it wouldn't surprise me to hear that the Mafia were keen to get in on the action.

I finished the ticket machine I was going through and reached for another. So many names and registration numbers! And I bet every one of them was left with tears in his eyes upon seeing the bit of paper from the other end of these stubs stuck under his windscreen. I felt a few tears spring to the eyes myself as I thought about the atrocities wreaked on my fellow man by these cash-thirsty vampires. Some of them were like me and had stood in line more than once to receive their punishment. Their registration numbers reappearing again and again on the reels like old friends...

'Ha! So the bastards do bust other people,' I said as I saw the same rego pop up for what must be a fourth time. 'I honestly thought they were only after me but Mr. TFG341 has also copped his fair share.'

Alex just grunted in reply, then straighted suddenly. 'Ha! Found one!' he said holding his ticket machine high as though it was a bowling trophy.

'Which one?' I asked.

'Uhhh... Dyer Street...'

'Great. That's one down, only four to go!'

How did it get to this? I had to sharpen up and start keeping some spare change in the glove box... 'Bingo!' I got one too! 'Park Ave!'

Alex looked up and grinned for the first time in a while. 'And I just got Robert Street! We should be outta here by...'

Then he stopped and his face went all funny-looking. He suddenly started scrabbling back through the stubs on his machine. 'What was that licence plate you said before?'

I wasn't sure what he was up to. 'TFG341. Why?

'Well Mr. TFG341 got a ticket on this one too,' Alex flicked back through the stubs, 'the day before you did.'

I shouldn't really enjoy someone else's misfortune, you know, karma and all that shit. Kurt would give me heaps if he ever found out. But I just couldn't help myself. Sometimes, it's just nice to know that you're not the only sucker who's getting his balls booted over out there. 'Ha! So they really are having a crackdown!' I gloated, 'you know, I should feel sorry for the fella but – '

Alex wasn't listening to me though, he was muttering away to himself. 'The day before you did... and you got that ticket at the Shell station...' he suddenly strode over and snatched my ticket machine off me. Then he started flicking back through the stubs again, faster this time like he was a blackjack dealer shuffling a deck ready to fleece another table of losers at the casino.

'Oh, man! Oh, man!' he said, 'you got busted twice outside a Shell station and so did he!'

I didn't get what he was getting his gruts so steamed up over. 'So? They were different traffic cops coz they had different machines. It's just a co-incidence. They're not picking on us. Unless there's some major conspiracy shit going on...'

Alex started clicking his fingers at me as if he wanted me to shut the hell up. I'm sure that's not what he intended but it did seem to come across that way. 'Where were those other robberies again? The Shell ones?'

'What's the matter? Don't you read your notes? One was in Park Ave. That was Tuesday's one. And last Friday's one was on Dyer Street. Why? What's that got to –'

'Ha!' Alex was beside himself, 'ha ha! Oh yeah baby!' and he started dancing around the room waving the ticket machines like a real chump.

'We got him! See? Our guy, Mr. TFG341 was at Dyer Street Thursday, the day before the robbery and here, on Monday, he gets a ticket on Maidstone which is just around the corner from the Park Ave Shell station! What does that say to you?

He looked at me expecting great things, but I'd already given at the office. I had to scratch my head, 'I dunno, he's unluckier than me coz he's got more parking tickets? What?'

Alex did a poor job of disguising his disappointment in me. 'Duh! He was casing the gas stations! It's obvious! He was at all the robberies the day before they happened except the last one when we must of put him off by sniffing the end of that manager dude's Winchester. We've got him on toast!'

*

So there we were. We had our original Zep Good times, Bad times single but we didn't have a turntable to play it on. We couldn't go bragging about nothing without hitching up our skirts about how we found it out.

Or could we?

In the bollock-freezing air of a Glenvale night we stood around in a dark alleyway arguing the toss about what to do next. I was all for spilling our guts to the boss because he just wanted the collar and wouldn't care how we got it, while Alex was being more of a blouse about it all.

'I tell ya, he'll snap the cuffs on us!' Alex was saying, 'you know what a goosestepper he is about any sort of crimes, why do you think he'll leave our pants alone?'
'Coz he don't fancy what's in 'em that's why!' I countered, 'look, frankly the boss doesn't care whether we live or die. All he wants is these gun-happy chumps off the street and bagged in the freezer so no one's pointing the finger at him every time they pull free gas.'

I could tell Alex was still holding out on me so I realised I'd have to meet him halfway if I ever wanted to get out of this slum and taste bourbon again.

'All right, all right!' I said rolling my eyes like I was reading tyre brands at the drags, 'here's the go. Everyone knows I'm getting humped by Traffic at the moment right? Well, say I've been sulking on that fact and figured that if I'm getting the treatment then why not our banditoes as well? After all, they've been in all the same places I've been haven't they? All true enough. And now, armed with this, we wanna go in and scrabble through Traffic's tickets looking for a link. A link we already secretly know is there! I tell ya it's bulletproof! All we gotta do is go in and 'theorise' it through to the boss in his orifice and make him a fan.'

Alex screwed his ugly mug up at me. 'How're ya gonna do that?'

'Piece of piss,' I said, 'I'll just pretend he's got tits.'

~~~~

PLAYING THUNDERSTICK

After that, there wasn't any point staking out any more gas stations of course so we split up. Alex went home to his Missus and kid while I ripped out the cellphone and called Rachelle.

She must have programmed her number into my phone while I was lying on the floor back at Guvvy's. I'd spotted it while we were staking out Jessie Street but hadn't said anything then because Alex was being such a perv about her.

Even though it was starting to get late and was a school night and all, she was dead keen to come out and play some pool. We agreed to meet up at the Star.

The Star wasn't a pub I went to a lot, although they did do good pub grub, especially on a weekend. But I did know that they had a few pool tables and weren't likely to be that busy at this time of night as the last thing you want when you're romancing a chick is to have someone you know butt in.

I'd just got in to the almost empty bar and finally found a barmaid to serve me a bourbon when I heard a gravelly voice behind me.

'So, are you gonna sit there like a Nigel No Mates all night or are ya gonna giz us a game of pool?'

I looked around and there she was in all her tight-fitting glory. She looked pretty much the same as she did back at Guvvy's except hotter, due to us being on a date this time.

'Well, don't just stand there gawking,' I said, 'rack 'em up then! Unless you're scared of getting down-troued, that is.'

She grinned and gave me a wink. 'Don't worry, we'll soon see who'll be loosening off their belt.'

We wandered over to a table and started up a game. It only took one shot for me to be able to chalk her up as a Thunderstick.

You know, there's several ways to play pool; Softly, Softly, Thunderstick and Pizzazz to name a few. All have their merits and you can tell a bit about a person from how they play.

Rachelle was definitely from the Thunderstick school where everything gets belted real hard. It looks great if you get the ball in, but if you miss and all the balls get shuffled around the table, it makes you look like a real amateur.

Most real good players hate playing Thunderstick opposition because it's rare for any of them to string a succession of top shots together. So the good players end up having to work extra hard cleaning up the mess Thunderstick leaves behind.

I was just an okay player so no one was likely to be fighting over getting a coin up on the table to play me. So that also meant I didn't have any rights to give a shit when I saw Rachelle belt the crap out of the break. I was more interested in how low she got to shoot anyway.

You see, chicks usually don't have the arm power to play upright like a fella but if they get down low they can get some drive from their legs and belt a mean ball. It was also a great technique for chicks on the hunt to catch a fella's eye, because there just ain't anywhere a boy can look except at that butt straining out against those tight jeans while she's hugging the cush.

Crack! Down went the two ball like a rifle bullet off the break and she was on unders.

'So, how long've you known old Debs?' I asked her to get the ball rolling.

'Long enough for her to want to tell me all about you,' she replied and cracked the six into the corner pocket. She was pretty bloody good.

Goddamn Debs! What did she have to go and do that for?

'Well, her report can't have been that bad, if you still came out anway,' I said making a mental note to chew Debs' ear when I next saw her.

'Nah, it was a shocker,' Rachelle said lining up the three ball, 'I think she must still fancy you deep down inside somewhere coz she sure doesn't want me anywhere near ya.' Bam! Down went the three without touching the sides.

Oh ho! This one was real sharp! I'd better watch out.

'Whatever she said, I can deny here right now.'

'Don't worry those curly locks of yours, pal,' Rachelle said sending the five ball off to oblivion, 'although, if she's a good mate, I'd hate to see your enemies.'

Dammit! Now that really depressed me to hear that. Of all the people I knew, Debs was the one who cheered me up the most because she normally didn't go in for bullshit.

You see, here in Glenvale so much of our time is wasted talking shit we already know like; how pissed we were, how pissed we'd got last week at Jimbo's place and how pissed that guy over there was. It was like we were just stalling for time until someone could come rescue us from saying anything interesting to each other. Most conversations here reminded me of the way a lot of fruit juice you can buy is 80% applesauce. And by the time you got through drinking all the chud, there wasn't much room left in your thirst to savour the good stuff.

And now I find out that my old mate Debs, who I normally could rely on being straight up, was spinning lines behind my back to get back at me.

'What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?'

I glanced back from staring at the ceiling just in time to see Rachelle caress the eight ball into a side pocket. She'd cleared the table already!

'Jeez! You're a goddamn shark!'

'Don't tell me your problems,' Rachelle said with a grin, 'now what were you saying before about down-trous?'

Dammit! I'd been cleaned up without even getting a chance to sink a ball and now there was nothing for it, Glenvale lore demanded that I drop my daks in front of my opponent. Still, maybe I could rescue something out of this...

'You want me to do it here or in the car?'

Rachelle gave me a saucy smile. 'I thought you'd never ask!'

~~~~

THE FORCE OF NATURE

'What d'ya drive, Spunky?' she asked and dropped her head on my shoulder as we stepped out through the pub doors toward the street.

'A 1974 Chrysler Valiant Regal 265 Hemi straight six,' I said as proud as a monkey with a hat.

'Oh yeah good,' she grinned, 'they're nice and wide. We could really use that coz I got a real thing for back seats eh.'

Jeez! She was a force of Nature. I was going to remember this night for a while –

But then my guts clenched. Shit! The Valiant was still in the shop! I only had that tincan Corolla instead! That bastard Webby! Why didn't he have a Holden or Chrysler for a courtesy car? Even a Ford would have been better than his bloody Jap crap!

'What the hell is that?'

We were standing on the street looking at the ice cream container blue of my stand-in Toyota Corolla. The pitiful light spilling down from the one remaining streetlamp on the block didn't make it look any prettier neither.

I tried to save my dignity by spinning a few of my lines but she wasn't in a buying mood. All my charms were bouncing off like arrows from a dragon's scales.

'You were just bullshitting me!'

Jeez! She was a power hitter! It had been all smoky fox before and now it was all screechy eagle. There was nothing in between with this chick.

'I wasn't! Honest!'

Bullcrap. My story was so lame I was ashamed of it. Dammit! I 'd really been looking forward to a go with this one, but I reckon this was going be a fairy tale with a road smash ending. Maybe there were bits and pieces I could still rescue into a passable pub brag but it would never be a headliner. Ah well, there wasn't much left but to take my hits without flinching...

'Look, I'll drive ya past Webby's and show you the car to prove it,' I said with head low and speaking only of honouring my name. No more lustful angling in my voice.

She picked up on it, as I hoped she would. Chicks are so good at that shit. And this one never seemed to miss a beat.

'Okay,' she said, her voice dropping back down a couple of octaves to normality, 'we can stop by on the way to dropping me off back home. Just to make sure, ready for next time.'

Aha! "Next time"! So she hadn't written me off totally. Scraps are a feast to a beggar. I reckon she'd also almost considered giving me a wink but was still too hacked off to pay me that courtesy yet. So I just bowed my head in acceptance of this pretty reasonable deal and opened the passenger door of Webby's shithouse Corolla for her. Now I was the perfect gentleman all over...

*

Webby's garage wasn't far and it didn't take long to get there though time stretched with both of us quiet. Endless bloody red lights didn't help neither. I tell you, there's so many traffic lights in Glenvale the Council must have shares in the manufacturing firm, I swear it!

Anyway, I finally got free and was squealing along Pritchard Street when I saw Webby's place coming up at a rate of knots. It was then that I thought that, seeing as my night was almost over, I should give my spunkrat at least something to remember me by. So I sunk my boot and slammed the Toyota into a handbrake turn to finish up outside the fat man's chop shop. It wasn't bad! The best I'd done in a while. But I may as well have saved my rubber for she made no comment on that at all.

'Is this the place?' she asked kicking open her door.

'Yeah,' was all I said and we both got out to look at it.

There wasn't much to see. Webby's was one of those old-style garages that was still old-style now quite frankly. The building itself was mostly made of wood a real long time ago except for a glass wall where the office was which looked like an add-on. There were ramshackle old wooden folding doors across the front with glass bits in them and dry rot leaving shark bites along the bottom. And, if you were still bothered to look, you'd see a handful of ancient-looking bowsers on a cracked old forecourt out where the garage met the street.

'It's in here,' I grunted and walked over to peer inside through one of the glass bits in the door. Rachelle come over too and looked through the next glass bit over from where I was.

'Which one?' she asked and it was a fair question, because even though it was dark and gloomy inside you could still make out several big old cars, at least two of which were Chryslers.

'The pea soup Valiant,' I said sneaking a look across at her standing up on tiptoe with everything tight and pushing out against her clothes. I've got to say, she was in top nick!

'What's the rego?' she asked suddenly and I shot it out so quick I surprised myself. I guess it was like asking my name.

'So it is yours,' she said turning to me and smiling for the first time in a while.

I was getting a bit ance about this by now. It was like she was putting me through one of those mental tests I had to do when I first joined the force. And there was no dancing for joy when I learned the results of them neither. ''Course it is.' I said between gritted teeth, 'I already told ya that.'

'Relax, Spunky,' she said coming over and putting her arms around my neck and her thigh up against the outside of mine. 'I just wanted to make sure you weren't lying to me that's all.'

I was going to try and be all huffy puffy about it all, but all I could think about was that thigh of hers and how it was going up and down the outside of mine – and now she had it going in and out a bit too – and what that was doing to the rest of me. What the hell was I talking about just then...?

I opened my mouth to make some smartarse remark but nothing came out, and instead a female tongue came blasting in and started to play peanuckle with mine.

She slammed me up against the ramshackle doors and we wrestled keenly against the restraint of each other's clothes. Jeez! She had a fine body! And it was fair bursting to get all over me. Then I heard this groaning of wood, and remembering all the dry rot in the doors, thought this wasn't going to end pretty! I'd better try manouevring her away.

Easier said than done! She was real strong and fired up to the max. She was also pressing so hard against me I thought the buttons on my shirt were going to punch through my skin into my sternum. I was struggling to breathe now and it took all my strength to rip my mouth clear of her hungry one.

'The car!' I croaked once I gasped in half a lungful of air. She just grunted in reply and started dragging me toward the Toyota by my belt.

'No! Not that one!' I said. Was she crazy? We were both too tall for any action in that! Unless we were made of rubber. 'Inside the garage,' I said and grabbed her shirt and pulled her round to the side of the building.

There were windows there that I knew were forcible. I'd been here so many times with the Valiant that I knew the place inside out. Giving one of the windows a bit of a thump I pushed it open wide enough to reach in and open her right up. I grabbed Rachelle, who'd been nibbling away at my neck the whole time, and shoved her in through the window!

She jumped in and I followed hard behind her. We ran over toward my Valiant both holding hands and giggling like schoolkids. We also tripped over spanners and wrenches and such that Webby's lazy boys had just let drop to the floor from where they stood on the stroke of 5 o'clock, but neither of us were too worried about that.

The Valiant was gutted in the engine but the back seat was still in perfect working order so we made a beeline for that. Rachelle ripped open a back door and jumped in head first. She lay full stretch along the bench where she'd landed and started undoing her jeans. I stood at the doorway and hauled off her boots. I was so fired up now my eyes were swimming and I was stabbing myself in the gut.

Her boots off, I then grabbed her jeans by the cuff at her ankles and pulled hard. Off came her pants like a snake shedding its skin. It was a trick I'd developed over the years as Glenvale chicks usually wore their pants so tight that if you tried rolling them off, their legs started turning blue.

'Woo hoo! Come on! Let's go wild boy!' Rachelle shouted and I could see she was going commando.

Jeez! This was gonna make my top ten!

I tore off my shirt and dropped my daks and gruts and just stood there for a moment to let her see how excited I was.

'Oh hoo ho!' she hooted. 'I've died and gone to Heaven!'

She came crawling naked toward me along the seat and reached out to grab my pride and joy.

'Now you got more there than you could ever need. How 'bout you be a good boy and share some with Mummy?'

~~~~

KEEPING THE FIRES BURNING

'Like the tatt.'

Huh? I had only just woken up so it took me a moment to figure out where the hell I was and who this utter spunk rat lying nude next to me under the leopardskin was. Jeez she was hot! The Black Hawk had struck again! Swooping down from on high to seize his juicy prey out of the long grass on the plain below.

That's what Rachelle was looking at too; the hawk tattoo on my left bicep. That was pretty standard around here, not the hawk, but a tatt in that spot. It was the ancient Glenvale decree that a fella had to get his symbol, his ch'i, tattooed there. So you'd see guys with a Dark Knight or a Death's Horseman on their bicep and you knew who you were dealing with. Alex had a Fender Strat on his and Kurt had the Old Man with the Lamp from the inside of the Led Zep IV album cover.

I looked down at my tatt. Yeah, it was pretty impressive, old Spike had done a real nice job of her all those years ago. The hawk was in mid-swoop and was all sharp beak, steely spread talons, inky black feathers and fit-looking body.

'Yeah,' I said, 'the Black Hawk's my ch'i. I've got a few statues and paintings of him back at home too.'

Rachelle leaned in on my shoulder and give the hawk a kiss on his beak.

'So, Mr. Hawk, am I your juicy prey?' she asked and started squirming around and squeaking like she was a helpless rabbit in the hawk's mighty clutches.

'Nah,' I said grabbing her wrists and holding her still. Her smile faded a little. 'I'm yours!' I said and suddenly flipped her over on top of me like she was the victorious hunter.

Her smile was back and bigger than before. 'Oh, you're good!' she said biting my lip and threatening to snap off a bit to take away with her, 'I might just keep you.'

'Oh, is that a fact?' I said grinning, 'then take a number, girl!'

She just laughed at this then suddenly stopped as a thought struck her. 'Hey, do birds piss?' she asked in all seriousness which took me a bit by surprise.

It was a good question and one I hadn't dedicated a lot of time thinking about in the past, "birds" and "piss" were words I didn't use together in the same sentence much.

'I dunno,' I said scratching my head, 'they shit on my car all the time, but I've never seen one cock his leg to go for a slash before.'

'That's no answer! I thought you were the bird expert?'

Well, maybe I was, but I was also butt naked in my Valiant that I'd broken and entered Webby's shop to get into. And now I could hear his boys pulling up on the street outside ready for another day's toil of not finishing off fixing my car.

'Shag expert maybe,' I said, 'but sounds like we've got company. And, unless you want to give old Webby's boys a thrill, we better wriggle back into our rags.'

She agreed and the pair of us squirmed our way back into our clothes, and not a second too soon neither, as one of Webby's boys threw open the big double doors just as I was doing up my belt. After that, there was nothing for it but for me and Rachelle to do but walk through a blue-overalled smirking guard of honour with our heads held high until we reached the glory of a new morning.

That fat Webby was waiting for us on the forecourt too. 'Just checking the suspension was still working were we?'

I glanced at Rachelle and nodded toward the Toyota which was still where I'd dumped it last night. 'Hey, babe, you don't need to hear this shit, why don't you go relax in the car.'

'Oh, I ain't worried about nothing,' she said, 'these boys can dream all they like, coz that's all they'll ever get!' With that, she walked over to the Toyota like she was strolling through a rose garden.

I turned back to the lard-filled overalls. 'What's happening with me car, Webs?'

My mechanic just grinned back at me. Old Webby was a bit of a fat slob so I guessed it wasn't him that did much of the fixing by squeezing in under the cars. I could see him just sitting back on his swivel chair in the office like some sort of royal lord and pointing out what had to be done, 'hey you, take them plugs out!', 'change that tyre boy!' and 'answer that phone!' But he can't be that bad though because his boys didn't seem too down in the mouth about it all. Maybe he put on some beers on a Friday.

'You got your Christmas bonus yet?'

Uh, oh. That didn't sound good. 'Jeez, Webs!' I said, 'what's the story with my car? I need her back!'

Webby just shrugged. 'She's worse than we thought. You've got my courtesy vehicle haven't ya?'

'Yeah, the bloody Corolla!'

I glanced back at the Valiant and now, in the daylight, I could see that all of her metal guts were strewn out over the concrete floor of the garage. If there was a part left on the inside of her, I didn't know its name. I looked back at Webby.

'What the hell's happening in there?'

Webby scratched his balding head like he was embarrassed to say this, but it didn't stop him anyway. 'Head gasket.'

Oh shit! That was the worst it could be! The metric system didn't go far enough to count how much that was going to cost me to get fixed. Suddenly I felt dizzy on my feet and blood was rushing into my nose. A terrible realisation was raising its ugly head...

Webby seemed to sense this. 'Here, come and sit down.'

He hurried over to take me by the arm and lead me over to the Valiant like I was a blind man. He kicked a jack out of the way so I wouldn't trip over it and gently pushed my head down so I wouldn't crack it on the doorframe as he shoved me in. Once I was inside Webby hopped his fat in onto the benchseat beside me.

I sat staring at the dash for a bit. Webby did too. Then he spoke. 'She's a beauty eh?'

I nodded without speaking. That fact went without saying.

'You don't see a lot like her round anymore,' Webby was saying in a voice that seemed a real long way away.

I nodded again. Webby reached out and fingered the seatbelt cloth. 'Such a shame really, coz guys like me love working on 'em...' he turned and looked at me and I was surprised to see he had the beginnings of tears in his eyes. I felt my own throat go all lumpy and I had to hide my own suddenly sore and wet eyes by looking down at the worn and filthy carpet on the floor.

'A car like this is special,' Webby said, his voice all tight, 'and you ought to be proud of keeping her going all these years.' Now his voice went all passionate and angry-like, 'coz a lot of fellas wouldn't have! They would've given up on her and gone and got a modern car. One that was easy to maintain. One that was the same as everything else. One that was...' now his voice went real low, 'lacking in the same personality...'

I looked back up at him and he was nodding at me. 'Thank you, man,' he said and gave me a gentle punch in the arm, 'thank you for keeping the fires burning for so long,' he waved out in the general direction of the shop to include all his boys here today – and I knew he meant those from yesteryear too. 'Thank you from all of us motorheads like you.'

*

As Rachelle and I drove away in Webby's courtesy Toyota again I was figuring the sums in my head. If I cut down on my drinking, and my womanising, and my food intake – and didn't get any more bloody parking fines! – I could do it. Maybe.

Bloody boss! If he was gonna give me and Alex jobs like this armed robbery bizzo, he oughta pay us more danger money. Shit! What was I saying? If me and Alex were onto it enough to find these Shell banditoes, maybe I ought to offer to join up rather than dob them in. Then at least I might be able to afford Webby's repair job!

Whatever. I just had to do something to get my Valiant back up and running again. Get my individuality back –

'Next stop, your place eh, Hawk?' Rachelle cut in on my thoughts as she started stroking my jeans with her sinful paw, 'I can pull a sickie and we could go back to bed and play some more...'

Jeez! She was an evil temptress! And I couldn't think of anything better to do at the moment. But me and Alex had a golden chance to save our jobs just by fronting up to the boss this morning. And, as glorious as a day spent with Rachelle would be, the new, improved Duane couldn't afford to slack off so close to glory.

'I'd love to, missy, but duty's honking outside my front gate. How about I call ya later?'

The paw was withdrawn in a flash. I stole a look while I overtook a truck on a corner. She was looking straight ahead out the windscreen.

'All right then,' she said with a dead-sounding voice, 'just drop us off at the mall then will ya?'

Uh oh. She was rarked, so I had some patching to do. 'Off for some retail therapy eh?'

'Quay Street entrance is fine.'

Quay Street was dead ahead so I floored it and pulled a handbrake turn up to the curb again like I'd done last night. It wasn't as tidy this time as I bumped into a sign a bit, but still, it wasn't a disgrace neither. She reacted the same though. Deadpan.

She turned and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. 'That was lovely.'

Then she got out and walked quickly toward the mall entrance joining in with all the other shoppers and staff who were wandering in. I watched her till she disappeared inside then I gunned the Toyota and squealed off, leaving a couple of ounces of tread on the road behind me.

Life was a real shit sometimes!

As I roared away from the mall I hauled out my cellphone and called Alex. After a couple of rings he answered sounding a bit sleepy.

'I thought it would be you,' he muttered.

'Get your glad rags on, I'll be around in two shakes of a drunk's hand,' I snapped down the line before cutting it off.

By Christ! The boss had better like my story, it had been a long time since I turned down the chance of a top shag. For any goddamn reason!

~~~~

IN THE PRESENCE OF THE DARK LORD

'Gentlemen! What a pleasant surprise,' the boss said as we went into his office, 'I trust you have made progress on the 416 I gave you?'

I pretended to be struck by this thought. 'Well, maybe we have...' I said taking an uninvited seat in one of the flash black leather armchairs the boss had stashed in his office. Old Tugger had never had expensive furniture in here when this was his office. He'd always flogged it all off down at the pub as soon as it was delivered, 'and it's just a thought at this stage but – '

'But let me guess... it involves traffic tickets in some way?' the boss asked super innocently.

What the..? Where had that come from? Maybe Alex's mate Dave hadn't been sleeping on the job after all! Maybe the bastard had been keeping himself real busy jotting down all our nefarious deeds as we did them.

But whatever our boss knew, and however he knew about it, would have to wait. In the meantime I just had to keep my cool and try not to look as guilty as Alex was looking right now, which wasn't really a big ask.

'What makes you say that, sir?'

'Oh, I don't know,' the boss said with a smirk that reached around to tap both his ears, 'just a wild stab in the dark. A bit like your policing methods from what I hear.'

Prick! If he had us over a barrel, there was no need to sink the boot in as well. 'Thanks for your kind words, sir, ' I said sellotaping a grin to my face, 'they won't be forgotten.'

'So,' the boss said smiling back, 'have you got everything you need from Traffic? Or do I need to get you back in?'

"Back in"? Jeez, the bastard knows all. I was truly in the presence of the Dark Lord himself. While I was here I ought to ask him to get me John Bonham's autograph.

'No, I think a simple phone call will be enough,' I muttered in defeat. Yeah, I'll need to ring my lawyer! Not that I have one, but I'd even sell the Valiant if it meant getting someone decent. Having a court-appointed lawyer in Glenvale is like asking a butcher to give you a vasectomy on the cheap, the job'd get done but you can be sure as hell you'll lose more than you bargained for.

To my surprise the boss then picked up the phone and dialled the number for the Traffic Department himself. 'Salas? Yeah, it's Rob... I know, I'm still laughing myself... have you got the TFG341 name for me? What's that? James Mulvihill, 338 Peachtree Grove, off Gorman Street? Excellent.'

Ha! I knew 338 Peachtree Grove. It was a bunch of old shops all more or less in the same two storey building made back when they still used proper orange bricks. The shops would have been real swanky back when they were built, but as time went by they got seedier and seedier. I remember there used to be a coin shop and a place where old fellas fixed bedside lamps for a living there when I was a kid. Now they were just druggie lairs where bludgers and small time dealers lay around on dirty cardboard boxes smoking and jabbing PlayStation consoles all day using power stolen from neighbours using real long extension cords. The place was well known and would have been in our top ten list of places to go look for banditoes if me and Alex hadn't already flushed out our wily foe.

Bloody typical! Once I heard the address I felt like booting myself in the butt for not thinking of it straight away. It all fitted. Druggies \+ Non Existent Social Skills + Reckless Use of Weapons + Repeated Need for Cash = Shell Servo Banditoes.

It was so bloody obvious to me now that I started to feel a little bit dumb. But hey! What was I worrying about? Even the thickest numbnuts in the world can do the toughest crossword ever made if he's got all the answers in front of him.

'That's great, sir,' I said out loud, stoked that we could finally bust these pricks at last – and hoping that if we got them maybe the boss would let us off the B & E charge. 'Should we round up a posse from the station?'

'No, I'm afraid not, gentlemen,' the boss said as he hung up his phone. 'Neither you nor anyone else from this station will be involved in apprehending these particular perpetrators. The arrest responsibility has now fallen to Situations.'

'What?'

'The statute is quite clear. If weapons are discharged in any alleged crimes, all interception action must be completed by special armed forces. I personally don't have any say in the matter. I just merely pass the file on to the appropriate authority. In this case, it is Captain Weinstock of Situations.'

There was a quiet moment as me and Alex thought about what he'd just said. On the one hand, it was a bit of a relief that we didn't have to go and dodge any possible drug-fuelled wildfire down at the coalface. But, on the other hand, there were appearances to be kept up, and this all made us look like a couple of softcocks who were afraid of getting our pinkies dirty whenever someone handed us a shit sandwich.

'What about us then?' Alex asked after a bit, 'it seems pretty stink that we do all the brain stuff of actually finding the guys and then we get kicked out in the rain as soon as the fat lady comes on stage.'

'I realise that and so does Captain Weinstock. That's why he usually allows the case detectives to go along and observe the proceedings.'

'"Observe the proceedings"?' I repeated.

'Yes,' the boss said, 'he wants you to go watch him kick some loser butt.' He smiled and reached for the phone. 'Relax. Go and grab a coffee or something and I'll call you with all the muster details.'

Shit. So that was it. It was all out of our hands. I felt a bit naked having the job stripped off me like this but there wasn't anything me or Alex could do about it other than shamble out with our hands over our bits.

'Oh, and Detective Mullett?' the boss called out as we turned to leave.

'Yeah?' I turned around only to see that he was holding out something real familiar for me.

'A word of advice. If you're going to break and enter in future, I suggest you either try wearing loose-fitting clothing or leave your wallet at home.'

~~~~

KICKING LOSER BUTT

We were told to meet up with the Situations fellas in the old disused Burgundy Road underground train station just around the corner from where the banditoes were lurking in Peachtree Grove.

Outside the rotting wood station building, me and Alex couldn't see any guards or anything, but we could hear some faint yelling coming up from down below ground.

'This must be the place,' I said when Alex glanced at me, 'we may as well get it over with.' My partner nodded and we pulled back the corrugated iron sheets covering the front entranceway enough to slip inside.

It was dark in here as everything was boarded up but there was a bit of light spilling up from the stairwells down to the old platforms. The stairs were long gone but there were military type ropes tied to the ceiling beams and dangling down the stairwell holes. The yelling coming from down there was louder now and it sounded like someone bellowing encouragement to others, although I couldn't make out exactly what he was saying.

'I hope someone told them we were coming,' I said to Alex as I reached out to grab hold of a rope, 'I don't wanna get shot for busting in on them like this.'

I hadn't done much rope work since police college and, although I'd shagged a few chicks who liked being tied up in the meantime, none of them had been into getting rope burns from sliding down the damn things. Neither was I quite frankly, and when I reached the underground platform at the bottom of the rope I was wishing I'd gone for a career in insurance instead.

As I looked up from licking my red and stinging palms I could see about a dozen guys in helmets and urban camouflage uniforms all standing around in a circle on the portable gas lamp lit railway platform.

Even though all the guys dressed the same and waved around the same sort of lethal looking guns, it was real easy to pick out which one was Captain Weinstock. He wore shades even underground and had a wild crazy shouting sort of face that he was using to yell surfer type stuff at his men. While he was doing this he was also walking around slapping them all so hard on the back that I thought his arm was going to crash through into someone's ribcage and he'd snap it off at the elbow trying to pull it out again. One of the soldiers saw me and Alex standing at the bottom of their ropes and they all turned to look at us.

'Woo! Well here they are! Our angels of mercy!' Weinstock shouted at us and came bounding over toward me holding out his hand.

'You must be Detective Mullblatt! Hoo! Captain Roger E. Weinstock at your service, guy!' Weinstock didn't just grab my burnt and sore hand, he tried ripping it away from me as though he was testing my shoulder joint to see if he could dislocate it. 'And these are your trashmen for the afternoon! Yah!'

Weinstock waved his arm at the others and they all let out a war whoop and punched the air with their guns.

'All right! And guy, you're just in time to see some feathers fly! Hei!' Weinstock yelled at me buttoning up his helmet. He kept whooping all the time like he was constantly bubbling over the top of the adrenalin cauldron. And it was coming out so loud down in this echoey cave that it gave you a shock every time. Like someone was throwing firecrackers around the station and you never knew when or where the next one was going to go off. I hoped he was just fizzed up for the gig and wasn't normally like this because I sure as hell didn't want to be standing anywhere near this guy when he was holding a gun.

Meanwhile, Weinstock was still shouting at us. 'This'll be a piss in the palm pinch hit with a simo assault at both exits. Yah! But you boys don't worry about none of that, coz you're hanging back with Lionel here. Ho!' And here, he grabbed a small sheepish-looking guy from the troop and pulled him forward for us to look at. 'He's a bit of a fag but he's okay really. Eh? Eh? Eh?' Weinstock started punching Lionel hard in the helmet. So hard in fact, that I thought his knuckles ought to start bleeding.

'Get off!' Lionel said half giggling and half embarrassed and shoved Weinstock away as roughly as a private can shove his superior officer. The Captain didn't seem to mind though and spun back to face us.

'You boys got any questions, you just talk to young fagboy Lionel here. Yo! He won't tell you jack but that's the way we like it. Okay, nothing else? Woo! All right men – let's go nuts! Woah yeah! And remember! Leave nothing to chance!'

He let out a really bloodthirsty whoop and all the men joined in waving their guns in the air like they'd already won the battle. One big fella kissed his weapon like it was a chick's tit and said 'Time to get Darlene a decent feed!' and everybody laughed like they'd been expecting him to say that.

I looked at Alex who just rolled his eyes at me like we'd drawn the short straw for cleaning out the toilet at home. But what could we do? We were as useless as a chaperone in a brothel here and everyone knew it. Situations now had total control of our case and we just had to stand around and watch them smash up our Wendyhouse playing toy soldiers. But, looking on the bright side, at least these clowns might give us a few good laughs to tell back at the pub later.

Now everybody was jumping down onto the disused tracks and starting to jog off out towards the railway tunnel. Lionel smiled at me and Alex so we ran along with him near the back. Pretty soon we came to the end of the tunnel and were able to scramble up a bank and over a busted down fence onto Gorman Street.

All the soldier guys then started to spread out across the road into some sort of military type pattern and Lionel waved his hand at us meaning that we should stay with him near the back. We just shrugged and followed him into position and then everyone started walking along Gorman Street towards the Peachtree Grove cul-de-sac.

I glanced around at them all. Even though the guys were obviously real confident of victory, they'd all gone quiet now and I figured that they were all thinking about what was going to happen next. I guess they were all smart or experienced enough to know that it never matters how many ace cards you hold in poker, you can still always mess up your hand by spilling whiskey all over it.

We walked on down the road in silence for a bit then, just before the front guys reached the turn off into Peachtree Grove, Weinstock stopped and made a hand signal. Next thing you know, and everyone is hustling off into shadowy corners amongst the overflowing skip bins, weeds and busted down and graffittied fences around the place. I couldn't see no enemy jumping up with a Tommy gun so it must have just been part of the usual routine. Lionel grabbed me by the sleeve and dragged me and Alex down into a seluded and stony spot.

'This'll do, boys,' he whispered and made us sit down with him. He put down his rifle and pulled off the knapsack he had on his back and started rummaging around in it. Then, while me and Alex watched, he pulled out some red electrical-type tape.

'This should be a bit of fun for you lads eh?' Lionel said smiling at us from under his helmet in amongst the weeds. He seemed all right did this Lionel. Not quite as hup-hup as the other guys in his troop. Maybe that was why Weinstock kept on calling him a fag.

'I bet you cop boys don't get to go on a Situations mission very often do you?' Lionel went on as he started winding tape around his right wrist.

Alex couldn't take his eyes off the tape. 'What're you doing that for?'

'Oh, it's just for the old war wounds,' Lionel said finishing with the right wrist and starting to wind tape around the left one.

'Yeah?'

Lionel chuckled. 'Nah, not really. They're just old sports injuries. You see that finger?' he held up a knobbly twisted looking digit for us to look at. 'I've dislocated it twice and broken it once out on the park.' He poked out another one that was just about as bad, 'while that one's only been broken before, but I managed to do it in two different places.' He reached down and hitched up his trouser leg to show us a mean looking scar all around and about his left knee, 'both my knees are shot to bits. This one's been cartilage scraped Christ knows how many times and my ankles have been smashed so often now they're as weak as water.' Then he reached up and rubbed his shoulder tenderly, 'I've also done me right collarbone too but you can't really strap that. At least, not in the field.'

He laughed as he saw me and Alex staring at him. 'Yeah I know! I'm a old crock aren't I? I'm only held together by insulation tape. I use about a roll and a half on every job.'

Alex screwed his face up at him. 'Yeah...' he said slowly, 'but what use is tape gonna be in there?' he asked pointing up toward the two storey rundown-looking orange brick shop at the end of the cul-de-sac. 'Wouldn't you rather have armour or something?'

'Yeah, of course I got armour!' Lionel said in a real shitty voice like Alex had just asked him if he wanted a lollipop. He pulled out some Kevlar from his knapsack and waved it under our noses, 'what the hell do you think that is? A Halloween costume?' He glared at us but we didn't say nothing more, so he cooled off a bit. He also seemed a bit embarrassed that he'd raised his voice a bit which I guess was probably frowned on in this line of work. 'All I'm saying,' he said more quieter this time, 'is that there's no sense in pulling a muscle on the job is there? You don't get medical insurance for reinjuring old sports injuries do you?'

I didn't know, not being a keen sportsman myself, but I didn't see much point in arguing the toss with him so I just nodded. Lionel seemed happy with this and started putting on his Kevlar armour over the top of his uniform. 'We never get the chance to do a decent warm-up before any action because of – well, look around you,' he waved his arm about to indicate all the rubble, weeds and trash we were perched in amongst. 'So tape is the only reliable injury prevention measure I can take.'

'Well, you never know,' Alex said with a bit of a grin, 'you might be lucky and them banditoes could just surrender up to you without any fight at all.'

Lionel snorted. 'Huh! I don't think so,' he said tightening up all of his armour straps, 'and it wouldn't make any difference to us if they did. It'd be the same result anyway.'

'Yeah?' I was surprised at this.

'Yeah,' Lionel looked at me with a hint of rark, 'orders are orders and we're here to do as we're told. Nothing more, nothing less.'

'What have you been told then?' I asked.

'You heard the Captain, he said "leave nothing to chance," and that means; "shoot to kill".'

'Eh?' me and Alex were both shocked, 'that's pretty hardcore ain't it?' I said.

'Nah,' Lionel shrugged his Kevlar encased shoulders, 'that's standard procedure for this side of the Fence.' He nodded over toward the motorway in the distance then looked back at both of us and chuckled, 'no offence, but you guys are animals over here. So we don't stuff about in the wild West, we just shoot first and cross-check the tattoos later.'

I was real mad about that! Where did these guys get off waltzing in here and blowing away my kith and kin like they were beer cans on the lawn? If we tried the same thing over on their side there'd be bloody World War Three! And yet this bastard was talking like he was about to clear his email. I wasn't going to take it.

I stood up. 'Well stuff you, Cityboy!' I said hitching my pants, 'this is our turf and if anyone's gonna shovel shit over here then it's gonna be us. And we'll use our own shovels.' It wasn't much of a speech but it was all I could think of at the time. So I gave Lionel the finger, busted out of the weeds and started running up the cul-de-sac toward the shop. As I got clear of the skip bins I could hear hissed orders coming from down the line but I ignored them and ran harder. I sprinted across the open patch and crashed up hard against the brick wall below the fire escape landing. There was no movement from the shop up above. I hadn't been spotted. Awesome!

Or was it? There was a sudden noise behind me and I whirled around only to see a speeding figure arrive in a blur of mane and denim.

'It's me! It's me!' Alex hissed as I grabbed him by the collar and raised my fist ready to strike.

'Oh, okay,' I said lowering my guard relieved I wasn't going to be required to kill with my bare hands after all.

'What's the plan?' Alex asked breathing hard and glancing between me and the shop door up above at the top of the fire escape.

'The plan?' I whispered back, 'the plan is not to let those Cityboy bastards have their turkeyshoot on Glenvale soil. That's my plan, what's yours?'

Alex stared at me. 'What the hell do you want to stop them for?' he sneered, 'don't forget these Shell guys are banditoes! Blasting away at innocent servo attendants and the like. If anyone deserves to boogie in the lead hail, they do.'

He had a point there. I suddenly felt a bit stupid. Here we were jumping in front of a firing squad with itchy trigger fingers trying to protect a bunch of pricks who'd only reward us with a spray of their own if they spotted us here. Talk about dumb! I was truly the King of Dumbsville. But at least I had company. I looked at Alex.

'Okay, so whaddya doing here then, Einstein?' I asked him.

'I dunno,' Alex said, 'I was about to ask myself the same question. I guess I must have just followed out of force of habit.'

I nodded. There was no use pointing fingers now. It was time for cool heads and clean gruts. 'All right. The way I see it, there's two ways we can go with this. We can either try sneaking back and risk getting our butts shot off by both sides and suck up the rarks and abuse for the rest of our sad sack lives. Or we can bar up and charge in there and try and bust these guys ourselves with a major guaranteed back up only a couple of inches behind us.'

Alex nodded. 'It's not really a choice is it?' he muttered, 'you could pretty much say our future is pre-ordained couldn't you?'

I looked at him sternly. 'You could – if you were a big bloody Nancy,' I said back, 'but don't let me put you off. Maybe this is the absolute perfect time to start spouting philosophy! You want me to start taking notes for you?'

Alex shook his head and glowered like crazy at me. 'You know, I actually came to back you up!' he grumbled, 'what the hell was I thinking of?'

'Not a lot,' I said, 'and it suits you.' But then I had to quit rarking him as I could see that Weinstock and the rest of the Situations crew had got bored of waiting on us and had started sneaking forward between the rubbish skips in formation. Even from this distance I could see Weinstock's face was different from before. Gone was the laughing crazy face and the one he had on now was all blotchy red and puffed up with a psychotic-looking rage. In fact, it looked like he had a great shaking fist of demented anger sticking out of the top of his camouflage jacket. I figured that we better get moving fast or that fist would be connecting with my jaw soon enough.

'Okay, here comes the cavalry,' I said and whipped out my Colt, 'so we better pull finger before they shag us all.' Then I skulked up the fire escape as noiselessly as a Red Indian in wool moccasins. Alex came stumping up after me.

At the top I moved over to one side of the door and held my gun up ready for some serious action. I hoped it wouldn't jam or nothing embarrassing like that. Maybe I should have cleaned it occasionally like I was supposed to. I glanced over at Alex who was standing on the landing. He'd pulled his weapon out too. 'We better get this over with,' I said, 'how about you burst in like Rambo and I cover you?'

'What?' Alex snarled back at me, 'why the hell should I do the bursting in? This was your dumb idea!'

I was about to retort when I was cut off by the squat door opening and a dishevelled-looking dude came stumbling out to see what me and Alex were arguing about outside his lounge. I was so surprised by this that I didn't even have time to think about what I was doing. I just brought the handle of my pistol down onto the side of his head the way I'd seen "crack" commando troops do in movies. Unfortunately the fella turned his swede just as I was about to hit him and I only succeeded in belting him hard in the ear.

'Owww! Arrggh!' yelled the stoner. He reached up to scrabble at his ear and that was the signal for chaos...

Firstly, my hairy would-be victim ended up grabbing my gun instead of his ear by mistake and for a split second both of us stood staring in amazement that he'd been able to disarm me so easily. Then he realised what it was in his hand and that I wasn't the goddamned Tooth Fairy and something really weird, and most probably bad, was about to happen to him.

At the same time there was the sound of thuds and grunts coming from inside the house as the rest of the banditoes inside heard their mate's woeful cries. I guess it's hard to switch from lying around being a PlayStation-hammering, drugged-out, lazy nutbar into a fully alert "crack" soldier of fortune in less than a second. From the sound of things they were tripping over everything that wasn't nailed to the ceiling.

Meanwhile, Weinstock must have seen me grappling with the first fella at the door and given the order to start shooting. So all around us bullets started to spit into walls, doors and fire escape stairs sending bits of brick, wood and rust everywhere. But luckily for us, Weinstock must have put his "Shoot to kill" memo on ice while me and Alex were in the road because nothing hit us – yet.

But neither Alex, me nor our hairy nutbar mate were going to stand around waiting for the Situations boys to get sick of gazing lovingly at our butts through their rifle sights. We all forgot about our scrap and dived headfirst in through the door of the squat together.

As we charged in though, we were on a direct collision course with most of the banditoes who'd just untangled themselves enough to come running out to help out their mate. I crashed my forehead full on into a hairy face with wild staring eyes going the other way. We must have been going at equal speeds because both of us came to a sudden stop in mid-air and dropped to the floor like rocks. But luckily for me, I fell on top of a handy cushion by the name of Alex who'd been keeping himself real busy tripping over a beer crate and somersaulting like a Russian gymnast onto his back on the floor.

My partner was a little slack in his duties of protecting me from flying knees however, as I copped one full smack in the kisser from some bastard as I went down. What happened immediately after that is a little hazy as all I could see was little white lights, but I did hear a whole heap of boots come thundering in at the doorway and a familiar voice bellow out...

'MOVE AND WE'LL KILL YOU!'

That sounded like the type of advice that you'd do well to heed in a situation like this, so I didn't move. At all.

I just lay there looking at the filth in the loops of the carpet and wondering if that was what my carpet must look like at home in the eyrie when I felt a pair of hands roughly grab my wrists and snap a pair of cuffs on so tight my hands went numb almost straight away. I opened my gob to protest when a voice said. 'I wouldn't if I was you.'

I peeped out of the corner of my eye up to see Lionel, looking huge in his red tape and Kevlar standing over me as I lay stretched out on the floor. He looked down at me in a half sorry and half pissed off way at me that reminded me of my Ma. 'You are so in Shit Street at the moment,' he whispered shaking his head, 'you'd do better to just keep that dumbass trap of yours shut.'

I nodded in reply and he seemed satisfied, moving away to help another trooper heft one of the similarly cuffed banditoes away. The bandito struggled against them for a second until the other trooper just whacked him hard over the ear with the butt of his rifle. Unlike me, the trooper didn't miss and the bandito slumped in a I'm-in-Disneyland-waiting-for-the-rides type of way. I looked back at the floor and held my breath. They wouldn't do that to me would they?

More boots walked past near my head carrying away banditoes. Then one pair walked over and stood in front of my eyes. I looked up and the boots belonged to the big gun kisser. He stood there staring down at me furiously.

'You stole from Darlene!' he snarled and I flinched expecting the worst. But nothing happened. When I looked up again, he was gone. In fact, everyone had gone. There was only me and Alex left lying cuffed on the floor in the room. I glanced over at him and he glanced back. What the...?

Then there were some footsteps at the door and the stubby figure of Weinstock came waddling back in. His face was still red and puffy but not as bad as before. He stumped over and jabbed me in the ribs with the toe of his shiny polished-up boot. I rolled over onto my back and stared up at him. I didn't say nothing and tried to look dignified. It wasn't easy from this position. Weinstock didn't say nothing either. He just reached down, took out a pistol from his holster and slowly moved it over until it was pointing at my face.

'Just give me one good reason why I don't shoot you now,' he said in a real scary voice squinting down the sight at me and cocking the trigger.

I swallowed. My answer better be good I suspected. 'Because I'm a cop?' I offered.

Weinstock was quiet for a good few seconds. Then he uncocked the pistol and put it back in his holster. 'Yeah,' he muttered, 'because you're a cop.'

Then he suddenly burst into raucous laughter.

'Only joking!' he roared, 'and I bloody had you then!'

He reached down and grabbed me under the arm and lifted me up onto my feet as easy as if I were just a baby crawling away from the picnic blanket. 'And your face! Ho ho! Oh your face!' he said as he spun me around to unlock my cuffs. They sprang open and I rubbed my wrists to try and get some feeling back into my hands.

'Did you see his face?' Weinstock was asking Alex while he unlocked his cuffs too, 'it was classic! Classic!'

Alex didn't say nothing neither. We both just stood there eying him and rubbing our wrists. Weinstock didn't seem to notice though. He reached out both bear-like arms and pulled us in to his sides like we were his best buddies.

'Good one boys! That was fun! We should do it again.' He slapped us both on the back so hard it took our breath away. 'Though – if you do that again, do that again, do that again!' he said slapping us both harder and harder in time with his chant. Then he suddenly grabbed us both by the scruff of the neck and forced the both of us to look at his crazy wild-eyed face, 'and, I just might shoot you!' he said and winked one of those bulging eyes. Then he laughed and pushed us away with a shove and strode off jauntily out of the room whistling a merry tune. Me and Alex just stared after him.

~~~~

THE PICK OF THE BUNCH

Weinstock may be a complete nutbar but he wasn't such a bad old stick really, as he let us have one of the banditoes to play with for a while.

It was just as well, because everyone in town was busting to know why they'd had it in for Shell so much. There'd been a million theories as to why and one of the Shell servo managers had even whacked up a billboard with a still from the security cameras of the banditoes in action. He'd then put on a line saying; "Shell, great service for when you're on the run!" It only got to stay up for a day before his head office made him rip it down again but at least everyone had got a good laugh out of it.

Weinstock wouldn't let us have our fella to takeaway though, but he said we could come and interview him back in Situations' cells. Now, I'm not allowed to say too much about their HQ because Weinstock told me not to. And frankly, he's not really the type of fella I want coming after me. All I'll say then, is that me and Alex had to cross the Western to get there.

Meanwhile, our old buddy Lionel was assigned to babysit us again, so it was him who stood alongside us as we looked in on the bandito through the one way mirror in their interview room.

'You've got the pick of the bunch,' Lionel said as he screwed his face up at the hairy drugbag sitting alone at a table there in the room, 'he's called Zane and was the closest one to a human I could find.'

I was still a bit sore at Lionel's attitude towards us Glenvalians but, seeing as we were on hup hup turf, I couldn't really start spewing on their carpet. So I just gave him a grin back as we headed for the door.

Zane sat tipping his hardback chair back so he was at the point of falling over all the time and he held up his middle finger for me, Alex and Lionel to look at as we came in.

'Hey, Zane,' I said as I took a perch on the side of the table, 'it's not often I get to meet a celeb like you. Can I have your autograph?'

I got another raised finger in reply.

'Now you're famous,' I went on, 'are you gonna sell your story to all the trash mags? Tell everyone what diet you're on? And what your wedding plans are?'

Once again I was shown Zane's finger.

'They pay good money for stories in them mags,' I said, 'almost as much as you've been getting rarking up innocent servo attendants with those guns of yours. But you won't get the dosh for nothing, you'll have to learn to unzip that gob and open up your heart to the reporters.'

'Maybe he can just dictate everything in semaphore,' Alex butted in with a grin.

Another finger.

'Look, I dunno about you guys,' I sighed to the other two, 'but I've just about had a gutsful of this giving the finger bizzo.'

As a reply, Zane just kept smirking and balancing on his chair, so I suddenly leaned forward and gave him a quick shove in the chest – so he lost his balance and crashed backwards, banging his head hard on the concrete floor.

'Ughhh!' Zane grunted lying flat out, his smirk gone.

'Jeez!' Lionel yelled at me, 'what're you doing?'

'I didn't do nothing,' I said all innocent-like, 'he just fell down the stairs, didn't he?'

'But we haven't got any stairs!'

'That's why he fell,' Alex explained for our chaperone, 'he was expecting some.'

Meanwhile I stepped over and grabbed the bandito by the throat and lifted him a couple of inches off the floor. 'Okay, punk, start talking. Why'd you have it in for Shell all the time? Was it the Bonus Miles or what?'

Zane starting crying and I nodded grimly to myself. I'd thought so! These guys were pussies! Oh yeah, they were real hot when there was a bunch of them all armed up against little old ladies and college students pumping gas part time while they did their maths homework. But go one-on-one with a genuine Slayer of Evil and straight away the Snivel-o-meter was getting a real workout.

Yet still the prick hadn't fessed up for me. I raised a fist over his face and waved it a bit. 'Don't make me hurt my hand,' I snarled, 'start spilling your guts right now!'

'It's – it's...,' he blubbed, '...it's because Shell have the best English speakers on their staff, man! We-we didn't have to say everything twice!'

Huh! I should've picked that one straightaway. He was right, Shell fellas were always real chatty, while you had to do a lot of pointing and miming at some of the other gas stations. I could see their point.

I let the bandito fall back to the floor with a thud and stood up. 'Right, cheers for that,' I said to Lionel, 'we've got all we need here.'

The Situations man stared at me and then Alex. 'What sort of interview technique is that? I oughta report you!'

'Hey, butt out, Tapeboy!' I snapped back at him, 'this is how we do shit in Glenvale. We're animals over there, remember?'

~~~~

The Black Hawk circled around high above the plain.

He hadn't seen the hunters come but they were there on the plains below. Yet a smirk curled his shiny beak. The intruders could blaze away as much as they liked but they could not touch the mighty Hawk. He could spot the blue grey trajectory of their bullets from high up in the sky and swoop well clear before they got close.

The Black Hawk let out a mocking cry which bounced off every rock and every tree on the plain. They would have to do much better than that if they wished to tame the Lord of the Sky...

~~~~

RIDING A RICKSHAW TO BOMBAY

'Oh hello, darlin'! What the hell are you doing here?'

I'd dropped by to see my Ma in a bit of a surprise visit as part of a crafty plan I'd cooked up to try and track down my long lost brother, Brian.

You see, having that loaded shotgun shoved in my face back at the Shell gas station had really shaken me up like a decent tequila slammer. I tell you, having your life replayed back before your eyes sure jogs the memory about a lot of things you'd long forgotten. And that includes family.

So while I'd always kept in touch with my Ma, I hadn't seen Brian for at least ten or twelve years and that's a long time. Too long really. I had no idea where he was or what he was doing and I felt I needed to see him because, like Kurt had once said, we are all just brief candles in the open air concert of life. And if I didn't see him now, I might never get the chance again.

I figured that Ma might know where he was because, frankly, she was his mother too. So, even if he didn't want to talk to me, he might feel the need to catch up with her every now and then. But it was no use asking Ma straight out because she wouldn't say. Not because she was stubborn or a meanass or anything, but because she just couldn't be bothered racking her brain for nothing no more. She needed points or someone else scooping up money as a motivation.

'You do know that Cash Sweep is on tonight don't ya?' Ma said giving me an evil look as I went to step past her into the house.

I just grinned at her. The game show Cash Sweep was on TV every night at the moment but there wasn't any use pointing that out because Ma, of all people, already knew that fact.

'That's all right,' I said patting her on the arm, 'coz I just came to watch it with ya.' I pulled out the bottle of Bombay Blue Sapphire gin I'd brought along with me and waved it in front of her nose. Immediately the creases disappeared from her brow.

'Oh, you're a lovely boy ain't ya?' she said, now all smiles, 'come on! Don't just stand there out in the cold, get inside and have a wee drink with your mother.'

You see, Sapphire was Ma's favourite but it was also a bit pricey, especially on her pissweak salary, but I guess we're all allowed at least one vice. And I'd learnt long ago to wait until she'd had her first belt before trying to talk to her because she just didn't want to know nothing until she'd caught that first rickshaw to Bombay. She still kept her stash of the pretty blue bottles under the sink along with all the cleaning products though. I wasn't sure why she did that, maybe she used the floor polish and oven cleaner as mixers.

I remember that once Ma used to be quite funny on it, but as time went by and she needed more and more to get a hit, she stopped trying to make other people laugh and just worried about getting more gin down her throat.

She'd boarded for years with her sister and associated clan but they'd fallen out a few months or so back. The end had started with her needing to have a shot first thing once she walked in the door after her day down at the supermarket where she worked. But it wasn't until Ma stopped using a glass to drink from that her sister's family had finally had a gutsful and given her the boot. I wasn't too upset when Ma got the bum's rush though, as the cousins always were a pack of whingers in my book and I didn't mind not having to see them anymore.

Now my mother lived by herself in a one bedroom apartment in a block of flats which wasn't too shabby, especially if you squinted your eyes a bit, and I always tried to go visit her at least on her birthday and at Christmas.

So the pair of us sat and passed the Bombay bottle on the couch for a while watching Cash Sweep. Ma was pretty good and was usually able to shout out the answers before the contestant even had a chance to open their gob. I felt a little bit proud of her even if the questions weren't exactly dreamt up by Einstein himself. But all too soon we got to an ad break and Ma relaxed back on the sofa.

'Gor! That Dave Jackson's spunky ain't he?' she said shaking her head at the box and pinching my arm, 'I bet he makes that girl of his happy!'

'Probably more than one,' I said grinning and giving her a wink, 'knowing how them famous TV types get around!'

'Oh! That's right!' she hooted, 'shameless they are! Shameless!'

It was time to make my play. 'Come on,' I said, 'let's keep going while the ads are on to keep you spiced up in tip top form. I'll ask some questions and you shout out the answers.'

Ma got all excited about this idea. 'Okay then! But make sure they're hard ones though.'

'Sure,' I nodded, 'what's the capital of Paraguay?'

'Oh, turn it up!' she shrieked. 'I thought you were gonna make 'em tough? It's Ascuncion.'

I had no idea whether that was right or not but I figured that she'd be likely to know. 'Correct. What do you get when you mix lead and tin?'

'You're gutless you are! It's pewter.'

'Right again. Here's one for ya...' I said eying Ma up, 'where does your son Brian hang out normally?'

'Oh, that's easy!' she said, 'he drinks at the Bull and Bear, Dirty Joe's and sometimes at the Wounded Cock.' She turned to stare at me in surprise, 'oi! That's not a real question! Whaddya wanna know that for?'

'They can't all be capitals of the world,' I said grinning and making a mental note of the names she'd said, 'so I just chucked in a curve ball to keep you honest.'

Ma wasn't really buying it though and she looked at me funny for a while before Cash Sweep returned to the screen and stole her attention back for another seven or so minutes.

~~~~

ANOTHER EXCITING OPPORTUNITY

Things had changed around the station after the bandito bust.

It was only little things, but I couldn't help but notice them over the next couple of days. Of course, everyone had all given us nods, backslaps and the like at the time, but I also saw that the other detectives had started telling me and Alex about the cases they had on, which they hadn't done before. They weren't asking our opinion or nothing, but it just seemed like they were telling us because they thought we'd be interested nowadays.

I wasn't particularly myself, as I'd been out celebrating our surviving the case all night, every night over the last few days and so wasn't in the greatest of shape in the mornings. But I just gave little nods every now and then while they talked as though I was thinking that this deduction or that arrest was the wisest thing to do at the time, and tried not to yawn in their faces.

In fact, I was so tired this morning that I'd made me and Alex real late for the morning brief up and we staggered in expecting to get a total rocket. Instead, all we got was a smile from the boss as though he wasn't too fussed by our slackness. Which was a completely new and somehow scary experience.

'...ah! Here they are now!' the boss said waving a manila folder in me and Alex's direction as we skulked in at the back. 'Detectives Mullett and Szabo, you're just in time for your next job. And, seeing as you did so... surprisingly well with the 416 the other day, I've got another exciting opportunity for you.'

But instead of just speaking to us though, he turned so that everyone could hear. 'Now as you all know, the criminal drug trade has deep roots in Glenvale. I'm afraid that this has been tolerated to some extent by previous administrations, but it will not be anymore. I want you two,' here he turned back to us, 'to go out there and – find – a well-known drug dealer at work and arrest him. I want everyone in town to know that this sort of activity will not be tolerated in my jurisdiction any longer.' With that the boss chucked his file onto the desktop in front of me and Alex, 'so, for Christ's sake make it colourful!' he added as a final sign off.

Me and my partner stared at each other in amazement. It was bloody typical! Here we were just trying to do our jobs and we got punished for it by being given more hard work. No wonder everyone in Glenvale was a screw-up, where was the incentive to be good at what you do if this was how you were rewarded?

The morning meeting broke up and we all got up to go. Burger couldn't resist swinging by us as we headed for the door. 'You better not stuff this one up,' he smirked, 'otherwise everyone'll know the last one was a fluke.'

'There are no flukes in this job, cadet boy,' I replied with a yawn, 'you'd learn that if you listened to your betters instead of just spying on them.'

But he was right and both me and Alex knew it. And the way the boss was pushing us, it'd only be a matter of time before our daks were down around our ankles. Still, if you could scam it once, then surely you could scam it again. And, if you kept at it, then sooner or later you'd be out there winning Lotto every weekend.

And, speaking of getting lucky, I spotted that gorgeous Frieda slipping away into her office nearby. 'Wish me luck,' I muttered to Alex as I left him to cuddle up with Burger and wandered off after her.

'What is it this time?' Frieda sighed as I swung into her office around the door frame.

'You know what, babe? I can really see you and I being together one day.'

Frieda stopped fluffing about with all the files on her desk and smiled super sweetly back at me. 'It's funny, but I was just about to say the same thing...'

'Yeah? Really?'

'Sure,' she pointed over at her window, 'see, we're both reflected in the window over there.'

'You know, we could – '

'Out!'

~~~~

GET SHORTY

And out in the Toyota I got busy cursing the boss' name. What the hell was he doing wasting our day by giving us work to do, when I had addresses for Brian to check out? The bastard!

But there was no avoiding this job because no doubt he'd be keeping an eye on us after our bandito bust-athon. The trick was to get this gig over and done with as fast as possible so I could get my day back. So I spent a quick moment thinking of all the people I knew who were involved in drugs. One name instantly came to mind. 'What about Shorty?'

'What about him?' my partner squinted back at me.

'Think about it! He's a known druggie. And a colourful character to boot. We go bust him and the jury'll all be ripping their daks off and going for it on the floor of the chambers.'

Alex wasn't convinced. 'Yeah, but Shorty's also a known bullshitter. We bust him then he'll deny everything later and everyone'll say it was all just another one of his stories.'

'Uh uh,' I said waggling a finger at him, 'not if we get him on tape, they won't. Look, I tell ya what, why don't we just stick your camcorder where he can't see it and I'll get him to fess up about how much dope he deals. Then we hand over the tape to the boss and spend the rest of the day down at the pub.'

Alex frowned at this. 'Oh, I dunno,' he muttered while biting his lip, 'it all sounds too easy to me.'

I shook the dust out of my flowing locks at him. 'Don't knock it, fella. I've never met a chick yet who was "too easy" – they've always been "just right" for me!'

My partner gave me the finger as a reply so I grinned at him in triumph and ripped the Toyota away from the kerb and off on the way round to pick up his camera.

*

Shorty Heppentine was the president of the Legalise Cannabis Society and you could usually find him upstairs in their seedy downtown office. And while he wasn't quite a one man band, everyone else in his club seemed to lack motivation to do much more than just slap a sticker on their army surplus handbags and watch TV. So Shorty spent most of his time alone in the office writing snarly press releases and making his Cannabis Cartoons to stick up on the hallway wall outside.

For these, he'd cut out magazine photos of the Mayor, Hollywood celebrities, world leaders and Presidents of America whenever they were caught with a dopey smile on their faces. Then he'd whack in a joint between their fingers to make it look like they were stoned and pop an LCS badge onto their chest as well. It might have looked really funny if he hadn't have been so stoned himself when he did them. Because in trying to make their eyes look bloodshot as well, he'd overcooked it a bit so that all his dope-smoking characters looked like they had demonic red eyes. Which probably wasn't an image Shorty's organisation ought to be projecting of itself.

The man himself wasn't your normal stoner, though he did have the usual pale unshaven face, mop of wild-looking hair and greasy stinking denims. What set Shorty apart from most smokers was his complete lack of mellowness. He was the type of guy who liked to be different from everyone else just so he could abuse them all for not being the same as him. And I reckon it didn't matter what Shorty was into, he would be like that. I swear that if he hadn't discovered dope first, he would've been a gay rights activist or a skinhead or anything else that would have given him the same license to permanently give out the finger.

We found him sitting behind his desk scraping hash out of the bends of a clear glass bong with a piece of wire. He didn't look up though he must have heard us come in. 'Ho, ho. A visit from two undercover cops I see,' he muttered to himself just loud enough for us to hear.

Alex fiddled with his bulging jacket and glanced at me but I didn't say nothing. I just figured I'd wait until I had Shorty's attention. Talking to dopers was boring enough without having to repeat yourself four or five times as well. While we waited, I took the chance to glance around the office. It was like a cross between a library, circus sideshow tent and mad scientist's laboratory with heaps of books by people called Crowley, Kesey and Huxley amongst others stacked on lots of shelves. There were also pictures of what looked like acupuncture charts, old psychadelic band posters and Tarot cards pinned to the walls and an amazing collection of different shaped bongs made from all sorts of metals and plastics strewn all over the place.

Finally Shorty finished mucking about and glanced up to glower at us. 'Yeah?' he grunted.

I flipped him the Badge. 'Detective Duane Mullett, Glenvale Central.'

Shorty squinted at me with suspicious eyes. 'What can I do for you, Detective?'

'I'd just like to ask you a few questions about drugs, Shorty.'

The president of the Legalise Cannabis Society sighed and rolled his eyes at me. 'If I had a dollar...' he said pretty bitter-like, 'all right. What do you want to know?'

'Are you selling any?'

Shorty stared at me open–mouthed. 'What did you say?'

'Are you selling any drugs, Shorty?'

'No. Now why would I do that?'

'Well, I dunno, fella. Maybe because you're a well-known drug fiend and are constantly telling people to smoke dope?'

'So I've got a website. What of it?'

'It's promoting law-breaking deeds.'

'No shit, Sherlock! I'm the president of the Legalise Cannabis Society.'

'Egg-zackery. Which also makes you president of the Against The Bloody Law Dope Peddling Society.'

Shorty then started to shake and gasp for air and I thought he was having some sort of fit when he suddenly let out this kind of donkey bray noise and I realised he was just laughing at me. 'You people make me sick!' he wheezed, 'we don't accept your draconian out-of-date laws.'

'Yeah? Well our jails have got no problem accepting you.'

'Have you ever heard of free speech?'

'Yeah, but I dunno when that became an okay excuse for being a dirty filthy drug dealer.'

Shorty was so mad now he jumped up from behind the desk and scuttled around to snap up at me like an angry toy dog. 'You fucking moron! How many times do you I have to tell you I'm not dealing?'

'Ha! Says you. How do we know you're not?'

'Because I'm the president of the Legalise Cannabis Society that's why! I'd have to be as stupid as you to also go selling drugs!' he snarled and I could see how sharp his little teeth were. 'I'm out there actively promoting cannabis use. I know all your thick pig eyes are watching me. Why would I give you an excuse to come anywhere near me?' He stopped just long enough so he could leer at us both, 'I know the Law. You can't get me for anything!'

'Oh yeah? So if we wandered around to your house right now, we wouldn't find no drugs?'

'You wouldn't find nothing without a warrant!'

'Hey, hey!' I said holding up my hands, 'who said anything about a warrant? You must have a guilty conscience, fella.' I chuckled and indicated my partner. 'Me and Alex might just be off-duty in your neighbourhood collecting for the Citizens Against Drug Dealing Scumbags Action Group.'

'You don't need to go round to my house to find dope...!' at this point Shorty reached into his jacket and pulled out an old yellow and red tobacco tin. One of those ones you see all the time in second hand shops behind the counter. Shorty flicked it open with his thumb to reveal that it was at least half full of dope inside. Good stuff too from the look of it. 'Because I've got some here!' he hissed, 'there, you see? I'm carrying it on me!'

Ha! I knew he'd be dumb enough that he couldn't resist whipping out his stash to show us. Guys like him were so snarky they were easy to crack open. They just couldn't wait to spill a secret to show you how hot they were for having one in the first place. He was the sort of guy who, if he hit himself on the thumb with a hammer, he'd spend the next ten minutes headbutting the hammer to show it who was in charge.

'But there's nothing whatsoever you can do about it! Do you know why?' at this point the little weed whipped out a worn-looking letter to show me. He'd had it laminated too, the prick! 'Because I have an exemption signed by my doctor, and countersigned by a JP,' he went on, 'which permits me to use cannabis to alleviate my pain.'

'What pain? You look all right to me.'

Shorty showed his teeth at me like the ratty little weasel he was. 'Is that your learned opinion, Doctor Mullett?' he sneered, 'I didn't know they trained you in medicine as well as in harassment at police college!'

He was starting to aggravate me the same way a bit of sand aggravates an oyster except I wasn't in the mood for spouting pearls. 'Huh! Don't talk to me about harassment you little arse! You ain't seen nothing yet!'

'Is that a threat?'

'You want it to be?' my icy cool was starting to melt a little bit as I stepped forward, my knuckles itching to smash shut his evil wee mouth. I thought he might back down now but instead he whipped around as there was a sound of footsteps in the hallway outside. I turned around too in time to see a red-shirted courier wander into the room with a package.

'You!' Shorty squeaked at the newcomer, 'you're a witness to this abuse of my rights!'

The courier fella took one look at the situation and wrinkled up his nose. 'Fuck off!' he said and gave Shorty the finger before chucking his package onto a table. Then he sauntered off out again on his way. The Glenvale way.

Now it was my turn to sneer at Shorty. I looked back at him in triumph. 'You were saying?'

I didn't get to add anything else though as Alex chose this moment to grab my arm. 'Come on, Duane. This ain't what we're here for.'

Despite myself I knew he was right. As relieving as it might feel, thumping Shorty wouldn't help our case against him. So I stepped back from the point of no return, reduced my fist back to just a finger and pointed it at the president of the Legalise Cannabis Society. 'Expect another visit real soon,' I said and forced my legs to walk away from him, closely followed by Alex.

'Make sure you bring a lawyer next time!' was the poisonous dart Shorty fired at our backs from the doorway as we thundered back down the stairs heading for the Toyota, 'coz you'll need one!'

*

Back in the car I slumped back in the driver's seat and pushed the ends of my fingers into my eyeballs to help myself calm down.

'You okay?' Alex asked.

'Yeah,' I said leaving my fingers where they were, 'it's just that that little rat sure knows how rev you up!'

'Still,' Alex said, 'it's just not worth belting him though.'

'Yeah, yeah, I know,' I muttered, 'you can't always get what you want. But at least we've got the bastard whipping out his stash on tape.' I said taking my fingers away and blinking away the dots, 'coz nothing in the world would cheer me up more than coming back with a warrant for that itty bitty prick's butt!'

As my vision returned to normal I could see Alex was looking real unhappy at this news. A cold thing started growing in my gut. 'Tell me you got that on tape, Alex!'

My partner's guilty face told me what I didn't want to know. 'Oh, you're kidding me aren't ya?' I couldn't believe this was true! It couldn't be! 'What happened? Did you leave the lens cap on?'

Alex shook his mane. 'Nah. Piss off! I'm not stupid.'

'Says who? What happened to the tape, you numbnuts?'

Alex glared at me and gestured with the camcorder, 'Axl!' he said, 'his Battle of the Bands semi-final's on here. I couldn't tape over it!'

I took it surprising well really.

I only screamed at him for about five minutes before calming down again. I guess I'm mellowing in my old age, either that or I know all too well how dumb Alex really is. After all, he is a guitarist and we all know the smart ones in a band are the drummers. Why spend years learning to pluck strings when you can just show up drunk and bash some stretched skins with a pair of sticks?

'All I can say is that was nice work, fella,' I finished up, 'very professional of you.'

'Axl is my son,' Alex muttered staring determinedly out the windscreen, 'and so he's more important than any bloody tinpot job we get given.'

'No shit!' I snapped, 'you've made that crystal clear to me and everyone else in our profession with your deeds today!' Outside it was starting to rain which helped sum up my mood just nicely. 'Ah well,' I said watching it splash on the windscreen, 'I guess we'll just have to catch him on the rebound run. And maybe next time I should hire a retard to wrangle the camera for me - to make sure the job gets done!'

Alex glowered back at me but didn't say nothing to this so we just sat and watched the rain on the windows of the car with both of us quiet for a while.

Now Glenvale certainly ain't what you call a pretty locale. Any photographer would struggle to find enough nice shots around the place to fill a calendar – unless he brought half a dozen snaps with him. And that's on a sunny day!

But when it rained Glenvale sure looked worse. Everything instantly turned into shades of grey like someone had just bunged a monochrome filter in front of your eyes. The streets glistened in shades of dark grey, the concrete walls gleamed in shades of light grey and the housing units all lurked in various shades of, you guessed it, grey. Even the neon signs above the strip bars seemed to switch over to a dull greyish pink.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against grey as a colour. Some people can look real smart in a grey shirt or skirt. But it's more a matter of degree, and if everything you can see is grey then it sort of becomes a bit of overkill. So, when it rained in Glenvale us locals naturally sought refuge in a bar.

And, as it was now raining, tradition was demanding that Alex and I seek such refuge. And, as I'd had my wee chat with Ma last night, I thought I could take this opportunity to try out a name she'd given me as a known watering hole of the brother of one Detective Duane Mullett.

'How about we sit this out in the Bull and Bear?' I suggested at last, leaving Alex's stuff up in the past.

Alex gave me a strange look. 'Guvvy's is closer,' he said.

'Guvvy's is always closer in your book,' I replied, 'even if it ain't. Come on, how about you try something radically different for a change? Like drinking in a bar other than Guvvy's?'

'There's been a few too many "different" things happening recently,' my partner grumbled with no shortage of rark in my general direction, which was a little cheeky considering what had just happened. But I could see he was also nestling back into the leopardskin so it didn't look like there was much chance of him calling in an airstrike if we didn't end up at his favourite pub. So I slammed the Toyota into gear and ripped her away from the kerb.

~~~~

IF YOU BOOK THEM THEY WILL COME

The Bull and Bear was a rank pub, but it had been worse. Once it had been the hangout of some of the evillest desperadoes in Glenvale who used to practice their nefarious deeds in its Highway Bar before they went out to commit them on the public. But the brewery chain had got sick of being rarked up about the state of it and brought in old Rex Sapsford to clean the place up.

Rex was an ex-wrestler who used to trade under the moniker of "Rex Wildblood". His schtick was that he was this olden day gentleman who laid down cloaks for ladies in the audience to walk on so they wouldn't get their feet wet. Then one of the baddie wrestlers would always come around and dish out some abuse to the lady, forcing old Rex to lose his rag and challenge him to a duel in the ring. Then Rex'd go absolutely apeshit in beating the baddie guy up while the audience went beserk behind him. I tell you, it wasn't a bad routine neither! I saw it myself a couple of times when I was a kid and I used to always get a charge out of seeing old Rex smack over Dr Death or the Hooded Terror down at the Municipal Hall.

Of course, that was a long time ago now and Rex wasn't in such great shape no more. In fact, it looked like he still ate as much as he used to when he was in training but, of course, didn't do anymore of the exercises he used to do to turn it all into bulging muscles. So now he was what you'd call super fat with cheeks that bulged out around his glasses so much it looked like he had horse blinkers on.

But it had been a real sharp move by the brewery to put him in charge of this pub. Because even though he wasn't really up to too much wrestling any more, all the desperadoes remembered him as he was and started behaving themselves in his joint. So, just by installing the one guy in their joint they'd managed to clean it up heaps. Still, they could have also splashed a bit of money around to go the whole hog as the Highway Bar itself wasn't any great shakes in the décor stakes. But, I guess, nobody really came here to admire the wallpaper and carpet.

In fact, there weren't many people here at all, I thought as I leaned up against the bar waiting for Rex to finish putting a bet on for somebody and come and serve me. Looking around the bar I could only see a few losers hanging around the pool tables and some lonely hooker types sitting chain smoking at tables by themselves. I guessed that now Rex had put a stop to a lot of the trouble here, there wasn't a lot of point in coming no more for the old regulars and, because of its rep, no one else was likely to come here. The pub was now caught between a rock and a hard place and probably needed a change in direction to get some life back into it.

Rex finished arsing about with the bets and came over to take my order and while he was pouring them I noticed a blackboard behind the bar with "Rock 'n' Rumble – Fri from 7" written on it. Seeing this gave me an idea...

As Rex brought over a beer each for me and Alex I pointed at the blackboard and said. 'Rock 'N' Rumble? I've seen them before, they're shit.'

'Eh? What are you talking about?' Rex grumped back at me, 'they've only just started up.'

'Huh! That's what they told you! They do Zep, Eagles and CCR covers right?'

'Well, yeah but – '

'Told ya I'd already seen them! Why don't you get in a real band? Give the punters a bit of quality for once.'

Rex glowered at me over the bar. 'Hey, bud, look around you. Does it look like I can afford a First Offence to you?' he waved a blubbery arm around to show me how light a workout his carpet was getting from a lack of drinkers' boots. I gave him a quick shake of the head before chuckling and reaching for the beers that he'd set on the bar for me.

'Sure, Smiley. You know best,' I said grabbing the beers and making as if to head off for our table. But I didn't get far before I was stopped by a massive meaty hand on the shoulder. I slowly turned back to look at one hacked-off looking bar manager.

'You know better?' he growled at me.

I just glanced down at his hand on my shoulder and he took it away after a moment, super reluctantly. 'Now, I ain't telling you nothing you don't already know,' I cooed in order to ease a bit of that eyebrow congestion in the middle of his face. 'All I'm saying is you don't need to pay through your butt for quality. You just gotta think creatively that's all,' then I gave him a wink, 'so, are we done here?'

He was still listening to the earlier bit of my speech though. 'What sort of "creatively"?' he wanted to know.

Ha! The fish was looking at the bait like it was the most exciting thing it'd ever seen in its cold-blooded rock-chewing life. It wouldn't be long until it couldn't resist having a little nibble...

'Oh, I'd say... ah, nah. It'd be a waste of time.'

'Who? Damn ya! Who were you gonna say?'

I shook my head and laughed. 'Oh, come on, fella! These guys wouldn't wanna play a piece of shit joint like this! Not once they find out you just had Rock n Rumble in here boring the rats out of your mince pies!'

'They won't find out!' Rex growled, 'at least, they won't if you don't tell them!'

I realised I'd better be careful here. I'd worked this guy into a lather now and, even though the old fella was long retired from the ring, he probably still knew a few moves that could put me in hospital through several doors at once. It was time to reel him in, slowly.

I banged my beers back down on the bar and looked him in the eye. 'Okay fella, only coz you're badgering me do I tell ya this...' I paused to quickly look around over both shoulders to see if anyone was listening in. Rex did too. '...but I'm talking jazz.'

I may as well have whacked the old fella between the eyes with a piece of four by two. Rex staggered back with his face all stunned-looking and he stared at me with his mouth opening and shutting like he was too thirsty to ask for a beer.

'It's not for everyone,' I added quickly, 'and maybe I'm talking to the wrong guy here, but you did ask.'

Rex found his voicebox again. 'Jazz? Fucking jazz?'

I just nodded this time. He'd heard me all right.

The bar manager looked away and blew out a lungful of air. 'Oh, I don't know!' he said shaking his head, 'fucking jazz!' He started absently kicking away at something behind the bar that I couldn't see before turning back to search my face. 'It's a big call!' he said shaking his head real slowly.

I nodded again. 'Yep. Can't deny that.'

Rex stared at me hard. 'What are they called?'

Oops! My daks were down. I had no idea what Alex and his mates called themselves, if they called themselves anything at all! It was time for some more creative thinking: 'They're called Sunshine Superlove,' I said with all the confidence of a vaccuum cleaner salesman.

'Yeah?' Rex was horrified, 'sounds like a bloody hippy name!'

He was right. I'd overcooked it a bit. But desperate times called for desperate measures. 'I know,' I winked at Rex, 'I think they've had a bit too much...' I demonstrated someone tooting on a happy baccy roach.

The bar manager understood. 'Bloody musos eh?' he growled with a grin, 'they couldn't get out of bed without whistling on a bit of weed! Not that I'm complaining, mind. Without pricks like them I'd be long gone. Like you said, I ain't gonna die rich off flogging piss in this piece of shit bar!'

Jesus! Rex was dealing! I'd heard it all now. No wonder the boss was so rarked up about making a drug bust. I had no idea how far the tentacles had spread. I would've put money down on this guy being a card carrying piss only merchant. Yet here he was wrapping silver foil bullets behind the bar. It just shows that you can watch TV in the lounge all your life and still not know what colour the wallpaper behind it was.

'So what about you?' Rex was leaning over the bar all smiles now, 'are you this Sunshine Superlove's manager?'

'Nah, I'm just a music superlover,' I said still reeling a bit from this news, 'and I'm only trying to spread the word.'

'Relax,' the old wrestler said, 'you've sold me already. I just wanna know how to get hold of 'em.'

Ah. The fish had been caught, gutted, filleted and was now flambeing in my frying pan. I gave Rex my cellphone number and told him to ask for Marcel, then grabbed my beers back off the bar.

As I made my way back to our table I looked around the bar seeing things in a new light. Now those losers hanging around the pool tables weren't just marking time, they were hustling for a score. Those guys making regular trips into the toilets didn't have weak bladders, they were palming off ounces. And those scrubbers chain smoking at the tables weren't just lonely hookers, they were waiting for their boyfriends to finish dealing. It was all a little bit depressing to be honest.

Meanwhile, Alex was sitting at our table looking daggers at me. 'What took you so long?' he demanded once I slammed a beer down in front of him, 'did he have to go and pick the hops himself?'

'You're a man of many skills, Alex,' I said putting my hand to my ear like I was listening to sacred music, 'I never knew you could speak Whinge so fluently!'

'Ah, shut up, ya egg.'

I watched as Alex snatched up his pint and started slurping away at it like a starving pig who's just been shoved in front of a trough full of past its use-by-date yoghurt.

I figured that I couldn't tell him about what this bar really was because he'd split his loincloth wanting us to bust Rex instead of Shorty. And it wouldn't be a tip top start to his fledgling jazz career if he were to turn in his first employer for having a joint in his sock.

No, I'd have to keep the cap firmly pulled down over the eyes over that one. And I may as well keep the lips fully pursed about his upcoming gig as well. At least until we got out of the bar just in case my partner started squealing and blew my cover with old Rex.

Hum! So many secrets! And, as I wasn't too crash hot on keeping my gob slammed, I figured I'd do quite nicely by not saying anything to him at all. So I looked away from all the beer splash action and wondered where the hell Brian was. Maybe Ma had got the locale wrong and, in a gin frenzy, had sent me to one of her favourite drunken karaoke haunts by mistake. I stared at all the low characters skulking about the bar wondering if any of them were Brian. I hadn't seen my brother for a long time and had no idea what he looked like now. Years can do a lot to a face, and a body! Many is the school teacher I had a crush on as a kid then later, once I was old enough to do something about it, I'd run into them and be face to face with something that looked like it had just been dredged out from the bottom of a lagoon.

Not that I'd escaped the flagellations of time scotfree neither. If you lined up all my yearly badge mug shots side by side I looked like the Incredible Melting Man. Chicks never, ever whispered the word "cute" about me no more and even I'd noticed that I scored more often hunting at night rather than in the piss-taking light of day.

'Come on. Finish up and let's go,' I said turning back to Alex, 'we're just wasting time here.'

'Eh?' my partner was surprised, 'we only just got here!'

'And now we're only just leaving,' I said getting up. Brian wasn't here and there wasn't any point in waiting around in this fleapit for him. Stuff it! It'd already been a dozen years since I'd last seen him, so there was no point in rushing into these things.

Meanwhile, Alex was glowering like crazy and making a big saga of still only sipping his beer in order to spite me. I put my thumb under the base of his glass and began to tip it up.

'Hurry up,' I said, 'abuse it or lose it.'

He gave me the finger in reply so I tipped up his glass until the beer poured all over his chin and onto the floor.

'Wanker!' Alex jumped up and shook his fist in my face.

'You should know,' I said, 'and such ingratitude after I bought you the damn thing in the first place.'

Alex started to retort but I didn't hear what he was saying as I was already heading for the door.

~~~~

BROTHER FROM ANOTHER PLANET

Outside it was still raining. No matter, we'd just put on the steel overcoat. I reached in my pocket for the keys to the Toyota, when I noticed a figure on the other side of the street. Surely it wasn't...

It was Brian. Even though it'd been twelve years or so since I'd last seen him I could still recognise that round head covered in blond hair, that scrawny frame, that cocky walk. He was standing in the rain talking to some guy in a car and he was using a lot of hand movements to get his point across. I even recognised some of them too.

'Brian!' I yelled out.

Brian heard his name and turned to squint in my direction. The guy in the car looked over at me too.

'What're you doing out there in the rain?' I yelled out to him and started walking over with my arms outstretched expecting my brother to be pleased to see me.

Instead, Brian just stood there staring at me and not moving. Then he half turned to say something to the guy in the car who then threw it into gear and drove off like he was the prime target for a shotgun wedding.

I'd reached the middle of the road by this stage and stopped. 'Are you gonna leave me hanging here?' I asked him with my arms still out wide.

Brian still hadn't moved from where he stood, even though his mate in the car had shipped out. 'What the hell do you want?' he barked back at me stirring another blissful memory of our youth! Brian's natural ability to turn even the most innocent of questions into a personal insult hadn't changed neither.

'Hey, it's nice to see you too,' I said dropping my arms back down to my sides standing there in the middle of the road in the rain.

'I don't get it, I never hear from you in years and now you suddenly turn up?' my brother sneered across at me.

I shrugged. 'What can I say? Traffic was a bitch. But I'm here now, so come on Bri, lighten up will ya?'

'Why should I? Your timing sucks!'

Huh? Timing for what? I didn't know what he was babbling about. 'Hey, what's the guts? You're too busy to catch up with your long lost brother?'

'Oh? You want to catch up do you?' Brian came stalking towards me with an expression on his face that fell well short of brotherly love. 'Well, here we go then,' he suddenly put on this singsong voice and a fake smile that was totally creepy. 'Hey, Duane! How's it going? Not that I care! You look so different. Actually you don't, you look exactly the bloody same as when I last saw you, except older. Me? I'm still muddling along.doing this and that. Yeah that's right, I'm still seeing whatshername. No kids yet though. Oh dear, what a shame. But hey, there's plenty of time. We'll keep trying.'

Now Brian went back to his normal grouchy self. 'Right, is that it? Or did I miss something out?'

I stared at him. I didn't remember him being such a prick but then again, we hadn't seen each other for a long time. My brain must have glossed over some of the details. No matter, I was picking up a strong sensation that he wasn't exactly stoked to see me and I could take a hint.

At this point a car came swishing along the wet road and blared out an angry tune on the horn at us as the driver had to make a desperate serve to avoid denting his fender on our thighbones. Words were exchanged and both Brian and I gave the driver a few curt hand signals before he disappeared around the corner.

'Anything else?' Brian demanded once we'd caught each other's eye again.

'No, I think you've pretty much covered it,' I said, 'that should do us for another ten years or so. I'll tell Ma you said "hi".' I belched my goodbye and turned for the Toyota.

As I walked away through the pouring rain, I couldn't help it, I caved in to the urge to glance back and there was Brian watching after me with a cellphone pressed to his ear. But as soon as he saw me looking he turned away.

I shook my head. Family! Why did I bother? Mine certainly weren't like in the Godfather. There sure was no one watching my back. What a rip off! I may as well have been an orphan!

Alex was already waiting in the car when I got in and dripped all over the driver's seat. His nefarious skills had obviously come into play again with my central locking system. 'It's raining outside,' was all he said though.

'No shit, Sherlock,' I squeezed my sleeve and water flowed out of it like a river. 'Ah, stuff this! Let's go to a pub.'

'Now, I know it's not exactly a dazzlingly different idea...' Alex said warily, 'but Guvvy's does have a shower I can get you into.'

'Yeah, fine,' I said slamming the Toyota into gear, 'let's go there. Coz, in my experience, breaking habits ain't all it's cracked up to be.'

~~~~

A COUPLE OF TURN UPS

I felt a lot better after a hot shower. Meanwhile, Alex had taken away my wet clothes and spread them out over all the pub's radiators to dry so that meant I had to come down to the bar in just my gruts. No one gave a shit though, as this was only Guvvy's after all.

'What can I get ya, sexy?' the scruffball Oscar said giving me a wink from behind the bar as I came searching for a drink.

'Careful,' I said to him fluffing the front of my gruts, 'don't give me too much of a come on son, coz there ain't much to hold me back!'

Oscar screwed up his nose at me. 'Aw jeez, well make a super special effort to control yourself, just for my sake.'

'Don't know if I can, fella! Don't you know a body covered in dirt and hair can drive a man wild?'

Oscar gave me the finger and pointed towards the bourbon shelf. 'What's it to be, lover boy? Jack or Jim?'

'Jack.'

While the barman poured my drink Alex called out from where he was playing pool against himself. 'Hey, Duane,' my partner said pointing up at the TV screen in the corner, 'check it out. There's your mate.'

I looked up at the screen and saw it was the News. Because we were in a bar Oscar had the sound turned down, but we didn't need to hear no reporter droning away to get the guts of what was going on. There was Shorty on screen sitting in the middle of Civic Square in the rain wearing a sign that said "Say No to Police Victimisation!" He was also smoking a massive joint and waving his laminated letter for the camera. He was shouting something too and even though I couldn't hear it, I had a fair idea that my name might be included in what sure looked like an angry spiel.

Behind Shorty a bunch of kids were hanging around mugging for the camera and, just before the news item ended, I was cheered no end to notice that some of them were kicking Shorty hard in the back.

Meanwhile Alex was glaring at me. 'It's a real pity I wasn't "professional" enough to get him waving his stash about on video before eh?' he said glowering at me like crazy, 'we could've beaten the six o'clock news by at least twenty minutes!'

I thought about Shorty puffing away on his Marley up there on the screen for a minute and tried to figure out where this left us. 'What do you reckon?' I muttered grabbing the drink Oscar had made me and walking over to join Alex, 'does this mean we can't bust him or not?'

Alex shrugged. 'Dunno for sure, though I think we can kiss goodbye any chance of a collar exclusive to us.'

Yeah, he was right. Shorty was toast as far as we were concerned. Now he'd gone and smoked his spliff on TV for everyone to see, any uniform could come scoop him up. There'd be no fizz left in it for a detective. Even Burger would run a mile. We were back at the drawing board again. Shit.

Me and Alex turned back to our drinks and started thinking over who else we could bust when a familiar voice charged in on our thoughts.

'Shit, Duane, I dunno why you got all dressed up for! We're only in fucking Guvvy's!'

Dog! I'd know that deep bullshitter's voice anywhere! I turned to face him and there he was in all his scrawny glory. I hadn't seen him for a few months but he hadn't changed much. He still had lank pale ginger hair hanging down over a face haggard from virtually non-stop drinking since he was old enough to hold a glass in his hand. His body was almost twisted now from excessive alcohol, lack of exercise and, basically, malnutrition. How Dog was even still alive was beyond most of us. But, despite everything, he was likely to outlast us all as the sort of old sinner who'd live to be a hundred as some kind of Biblical warning for the rest of us. Personally, I'm convinced he must have been bitten at some time by Keith Richards.

The hardest thing about life for poor old Dog was that he had wear a business shirt and pants all day every day to look at least semi-presentable for his job. Because, as a freelance bookie in the murky world of on-course horse racing, he not only had to deal with the public, he had to take money off them. Mind you, I didn't think Dog wouldn't get into too many business meetings, not with those shirts. You see, when someone had once told Dog that he needed to change his duds every day, Dog took that to mean only once every twenty four hours. So from then on his work clothes had also served double duty as pyjamas and going out clothes as well.

Still, he was my mate and had been since we were at school together. And we'd had a heap of fun over the years of the type you wouldn't write a letter to Nana about.

Now he was here in Guvvy's with me and, frankly, I was bloody happy to see him.

'Dog, ya miserable bastard! How the hell are ya?'

'I knew it was you as soon as I walked in,' Dog said grinning at me. 'And there's no use hiding that skinny arse under those filthy rags,' he said snapping the elastic band of my gruts, 'I've seen it bouncing up and down on too many teenyboppers over the years to forget the ugly sight of it!'

'Come on, grab yourself a beer and let's get pissed,' I said grabbing my old mate around the neck and shaking him like he was biro running low on ink. Dog grinned and ripped himself free of my grip then wandered over to go insult Oscar behind the bar.

Meanwhile Alex reached over to touch my arm. 'I'm gonna shoot through,' he said before skulling back the rest of his beer. 'I've got band practice. Giz a call later.' And he was gone.

I knew what was really up. My partner had been subjected to several of my drink-athons with old mates before and I guess they weren't much fun for anyone who wasn't there in the "good old days". Besides, I didn't think he liked Dog very much. And he wasn't alone on that call, Dog was an acquired taste. Kind of like rotten corn.

~~~~

PLAYING THE MATESHIP CARD

After listening to me drink, sing and scream obscenities with Dog for several hours even the long-suffering bar staff at Guvvy's had had a gutsful and they chucked us out. Luckily for us it had stopped raining so we didn't get wet while we staggered aimless around the streets of Glenvale for a while trying to pick fights with all the other drunks. Finally, we came across a Chinese restaurant that reminded us of how little we'd eaten recently. We decided to go in.

This restaurant was like every other Chinese one on Earth. And there sure was no shortage of red paint in China. I reckon everyone must have a well of it in their back yard back in old Hangchow province and every couple of days the locals must haul up a couple of cans worth to touch up the paintwork on all the lanterns, dragons and temples around the place. Just in case some weary traveller wandered into the countryside from Russia or somewhere and was a little hazy on what the national colour might be.

Dog had an amazing ability to straighten up when he had to and once we stepped through the red tassled door he walked along like he was stone cold sober. I tried to copy him but couldn't help but stumble into the back of innocent diners sitting eating their meals. Dog got us a table and we crashed down into our seats covering our boozed and belching faces with the menus.

After eating endless plates of sticky sauce covered things and bowls of rice I started to sharpen up a little. Dog seemed to be waiting for this because once he saw me hold my head still for more than a second he leaned in close.

'Duane, can I ask a favour of ya?'

I stared at him and wondered if I was still really pissed because Dog never spoke in a quiet voice and he never asked for favours.

'Piss off, Dog. You're such a lying sack of shit!' I said and kicked him hard in the butt under the table.

But Dog didn't smile. 'Nah, I'm not. I really am in some turkey shit this time and I need you to help.'

I didn't like this Dog. He scared me. Where was the old one?

Suddenly my old mate started staring straight ahead and his whole body began to shake. Then rice, rice bowls, chopsticks and plates went flying as Dog jerked around in his seat with wild staring eyes and gasping desperately for breath like he was a fish out of water. He was having some sort of attack. Jeez! What should I do?

Hearing the way he was choking I thought he might be trying to swallow his tongue so I grabbed Dog by the collar and tried to jam a Chinese soup shovel into his gob. Dog didn't seem to like this and kept twisting his head out of the way.

'Hold still for Christ's sake!' I yelled at him.

'What happen?' the restaurant owner appeared out of nowhere to yell in my ear.

'Call an ambulance!' I screamed at him.

'Okay! okay!' the owner waved at me irritably, 'get him outside!'

I thought; "what a prick!". Here was my mate dying and he wanted me to drag him out into the gutter. I glanced up and saw that most of the other diners were glaring at us like they thought it would be a good idea too if we sloped off. 'Bloody bastards!' I snarled at them as I hooked my arms under Dog's armpits and dragged him out through the door that some super helpful jerk had opened for us.

But the surprises hadn't finished, for the moment that I got Dog out through the door, he suddenly stopped choking and contorting and started sprinting off down the street. I stood staring after him in amazement. 'Come on!' Dog shouted back over his shoulder at me and then it dawned on me. The scumbag was doing a runner!

There was nothing for me to do but follow him so I started running too. Dog had a real headstart on me but pretty soon I was chewing up the distance between us in a big way. I wasn't too fit myself but then again neither was Dog. I guess it's pretty hard to stay in shape on a diet of booze, fags and the occasional stolen bowl of rice.

After about four or five blocks Dog staggered around behind a big billboard standing in waist high weeds in an open lot. He'd obviously reached the end of his athletics ability and came to a sudden stop and hunched over wheezing and spitting. I ran up next to him and did pretty much the same.

'Jeez, you're a shocker!' I panted at him as we grabbed hold of our knees trying to catch our breath, 'I thought you said you were gonna shout me dinner?'

'You didn't have to pay nothing did ya?' Dog wheezed back at me.

Well, that much was true! I just shook the dust out of my flowing locks and laughed. 'What a cheapskate!' I gasped. Dog didn't answer me. He was still struggling a bit for breath. In fact he was gasping pretty much like he'd done in the restaurant. So that was how he'd learnt to be so convincing. He'd obviously done this a few times already.

'Dunno about you,' Dog said finally finding the energy to stand up straight again, 'but all this running around's made me thirsty as a bastard. Fancy a drink?'

I shook my head. 'No way. Not if we have to do that again.'

Dog grinned. 'Nah, they're onto me in the bottle stores now. I gotta pay my own way for piss nowadays.' He clapped a hand on my shoulder, 'come on ya lazy bastard, let's go back to my place for a couple of quiet ones.'

'Your place?' This was news to me. I had no idea Dog was living in the area. I was actually a bit slutted to be honest, I would've thought he might have come and seen me earlier if he was now parked up around here.

'Yeah. I'm just around the corner,' he said and started off down the road singing the theme tune to Popeye the Sailor Man. Except it wasn't the cleaned up version you heard on the cartoons, it was the original sailor's ditty from the 1890s – and it was filthy! Dog had once found a record of 80 year old sea dogs singing sea shantys the way they learned them as boys, hauling on oars or hairy ropes. He'd played it for me a million times and I tell you, it's not something you'll forget in a hurry, the sound of croaky old men singing lyrics so vile it made your eyes dry out.

I think Dog really saw himself as one of them old school pirates who ran away to sea and lived a life of adventure, never staying in the same place for more than a couple of days at a time. Dog's last name was "Overton" which was also the name of the suburb in Glenvale where he grew up. He reckoned that his father must have been a seaman on board some ship that had docked in the wharves nearby. So his Ma had then named him after the suburb because she never knew his Dad's real name. At least that was Dog's theory. He could never get his Ma to confirm it because she'd always start crying whenever he asked her about it.

Anyway, like his probable ancestors, Dog had always been a bit of a tramp and so his bookie job suited him down to the dust, as he got to follow the horse racing meets around the countryside all year round.

Up until now though, Dog had always stayed in motels with the jockeys, as the nuggety little buggers were the only ones with enough iron in their guts to be able to keep up with his drinking. But now he'd branched out on his own, which was very weird to my mind.

We walked around the corner and a couple of run down old factories and a beat up old car rusting away in an empty lot completely overgrown with weeds came into view. I didn't understand. He wasn't living in one of the factories was he?

'Where's the house?'

Dog looked at me all confused. 'What house?'

'Your house. You just said you lived around here.'

My old mate stared at me. 'I do. But what the fuck do I need a house for?' he asked shrugging his shoulders. He pointed over at the rusty old car, 'that's where I live.'

'What? In the car?'

'Yeah. What's wrong with that? I get a house and I'd just have to pay for the bastard.'

Well, there was no denying that fact. And Dog wasn't likely to be throwing a whole heap of dinner parties neither, so a car was as good as anything else with a roof. 'So you've given up on the jockeys then?'

Dog looked at me a little sour. 'Yeah. I got sick of their – wee! wee! wee! – whining after a while,' he said putting on a high-pitched squeaky voice, 'but stuff that. Come on in and sink some piss, unless you got something better to do.'

I didn't have anything better to do so we waded through the long grass over to his car. It really was a rustbucket! I couldn't even tell what make it was, it was so screwed. But going by the oddball shape of it I reckoned it might have once been a Renault or something.

Dog wrenched open a car door to reveal a mess of yellowed newspaper, empty booze bottles and lots of plastic Chinese takeaway boxes still with bits of rice left inside covered in varying amounts of penicillin. Dog's clothes were also strewn over the car seats, dash and steering wheel, although it was only once I got up close that I realised that they weren't bits of screwed up newspaper. To my amazement there was also a rough sack lying on its side in the back seat spilling potatoes onto the floor as well. The stink of mould, body odour, stale booze and cigarette butts was so gross it would make a corpse get up and heave.

'Ah, yeah. I think I've seen your place in the latest Home & Entertaining magazine,' I said stepping back and covering my nose, 'no offence, but I think I'd rather have my drink out on the patio.'

'Ah, go fuck yourself,' Dog muttered rattling through the booze bottles, 'aha! I thought there was one left!' He pulled out a vodka bottle that was mostly full of a dark liquid. He came out to sit on the bonnet of the car next to me, spun off the metal cap and drank deeply from the bottle before passing it over, 'get some of that down ya, pansy boy.'

I looked at it but it was hard to see what it was in the moonlight but it smelt like Agent Orange. This was a drink that Dog had invented himself and somehow that wasn't surprising. Agent Orange was basically a freshly opened bottle of vodka with a sachet of orange Kool Aid tipped into it and shaken in. That's all.

I took a swig from the bottle and shuddered at the vile taste. 'Jesus! Why don't you use Orango or something in this? That Kool Aid tastes like shit!'

'Make up your own if you're gonna whine about it,' Dog said snatching his bottle back and drinking from it again.

While he guzzled I looked around me. This really was a miserable shithole! Dog must have fallen on hard times to be parked up here. As I looked, a chicken hopped out from the space over the left front wheel of Dog's car. It scratched itself vigorously below the beak with one of its feet.

I laughed. 'Is that yours?'

'Yeah,' Dog said grinning and handing the bottle back to me, 'Henrietta, she's my bitch! Aren't ya?' He reached out and stroked the chicken's feathers tenderly. She didn't seem to mind, 'she's a real good lay too.'

There must have been a bone in the vodka because I started to choke on it at about this time.

'Four a week usually!' Dog was saying and I relaxed a bit. He was talking about eggs.

'So what the hell is this favour you wanna talk to me about?' I didn't feel like hanging around here all night watching Dog pat a chicken.

My friend didn't look up. 'Pushy prick aren't ya?'

'Do you want me to help ya or not?'

Dog let Henrietta go and sat back up on the bonnet. He reached out for the bottle again. 'I got an interest in this racehorse you see. His name is Bogan Boy.'

Ah! I didn't know much about horse racing but I had heard that name. That meant it must be winning races. Immediately suspicion raised its gnarly head. Dog and Success usually didn't even nod to each other when they passed on the street.

'And the word is going around,' Dog went on, 'that some race inspectors are sniffing around keen to come stick their hands up Bogan Boy's arse.' He took another swig of his Agent Orange before continuing, 'and I can't have that happen.'

'Why not?'

Dog gave me a glare. 'Coz I've been feeding him cocktails, why the fuck do you think, ya moron?'

Ah, now I knew why he'd fallen out with the jockeys. They obviously had got wind of what he was up to and were rarked up with him about it. Or, more likely, they were probably slutted that he hadn't cut them in on the project.

'I like your style mate, I really do,' I said shaking the dust out of my flowing locks at him, 'you want me to help ya, so what do you do? You take every chance you can to abuse the crap outta me! Dog, you really are a sparkling jewel in the king's crown. You know that eh?'

'Ah, go fuck yourself on a tap,' Dog chuckled flipping me a lazy finger. But then he leant forward to stare at me with real serious eyes, 'so, are ya gonna help me or what?' he asked.

'What've you got in mind?'

'Bogan Boy needs to "disappear" real fast. Can you do that for me?'

What? Did I just hear right? Was Dog actually wanting me to steal his horse? Had he completely lost the plot? I looked hard at my old friend. 'Dog, you do know that I work as a cop don't ya?'

Dog shrugged back at me. 'Yeah, so what?' he asked, 'you still shit and sink piss like the rest of us though don't ya?'

I nodded. There was no denying that fact. My neighbours would be first to testify to both those truths.

'So what's the diff?' my friend was wanting to know, 'I ain't gonna snitch ya out so who else is gonna squeal?' He squinted at me as a thought struck him, 'and besides, if anyone shits the bed about anything, you've got a whole heap of mates in the force all ready and waiting to bail you out. Unless...' he added eying me straight, '...they're the type of mates who turn their backs as soon as it's time to return a favour, that is.'

There was no doubting the lurking rark in that sentence. It had been hauled up high on a crane cable and hung there, casting a heavy and massive shadow over my small and insignificant head. I'd been summoned to duty and there was no backing down now. Not unless I wanted that great weight of rark to come crashing down and crush the life out of my name. Dog had played his sacred mateship card and there was no going back for either of us.

You see, the mateship card is kind of like the joker in the card game 500. In that game there's only one joker and it can't be beat no matter what trumps are. So straight after the deal everyone fans their hands out looking for the bastard because whoever's got it has an advantage over everyone else. And if another fella has got the joker, you can't do jack about it. You've just got to wait until they feel like playing it and cleaning up whatever tricks there are on the table. They can play it straight away or in the middle or wait until right until the end. It's completely up to them.

The same goes for the mateship card. There's only ever one between two mates so only one of them can hang onto it at a time. And the only way you can get it back is by doing your mate a favour, when he wants you to do one and no matter what it is. You can't get out of jail by offering to do your mate a favour neither, because then he just gets a favour scotfree. The mateship card is all about needing something done. Anything else is just guy stuff.

But once you do get the chance to pay your favour then you've got the card and it's going to be hanging over your mate's head until you feel like using it back on him. So if Dog was playing it over me then he knew that I'd have it and it would be my turn to hold it over him. For whatever I wanted.

'So where do you want me to steal him to?' I asked my old mate.

~~~~

THE LORD OF THE DARTS

Later that night, once me and Dog had finished up the last of his Agent Orange, I stumbled back home to the eyrie. I often walked back after I'd had a few as it helped clear my head, even if I was still savaged by booze. But Dog's place was a lot further away than what I usually walked, so by the home I got home my thoughts were crystal clear even if my legs were still stumbling around all over the place.

I'd just got to the top of the landing and was fumbling around for my key when there was a flurry of fast light footsteps and whump! I was knocked sprawling by a tall sexy passion monster who started plastering my face and neck with wet vodka-smelling kisses. I recognised the perfume – and the vodka brand – as the ones worn by one Rachelle, infamous spunkrat of Glenvale.

'I thought I was in your bad books?' I laughed as the kissing mouth started to work its way lower.

'You were,' grunted Rachelle between breaths, 'but then I had a few drinks!'

She started undoing my belt and I realised I better get her inside before anyone else in the building walked in on us and I got banned from any future Body Corporate meetings.

Years of practice bringing home sexy babes while drunk and disorderly steadied my hand enough to be able to unlock my front door and, once it had opened, we fell through onto my hallway carpet in a mass of limbs twisting out of clothing. Flat on my back I managed to kick shut my door just as a semi-naked Rachelle climbed the peak of Mount Everhard. Twenty minutes of primal grunting, snorting and furious scrabbling later and we lay exhausted side by side on the kitchen lino.

After what seemed an incredibly short time, Rachelle leaned her hair over my face. 'You ready to go round again, spunky?' she murmured in my ear as she nibbled on the lobe.

'Come on,' I chuckled, 'don't you wanna do anything except shag?'

'So? Most fellas wouldn't be complaining about that! What's the matter with ya? Are you a secret fag or something?'

'Ah, bullshit,' I grumped, 'I've always been busy shagging away. I just wanna do something else... '

There was a moment of quiet as both Rachelle and me just sat and thought about this amazing thing I'd just said. Now, there were a couple of possibilities that could explain it; that I was coming down hard off my Agent Orange buzz or maybe that I was still messed up from having those shotgun holes in front of my eyes, but really, I had no idea where that had come from. But figuring it out would have to wait because, going by Rachelle's gasping and gaping gob, I had more pressing matters to deal with first. 'Don't get me wrong,' I added as quick as I could, 'it ain't nothing to do with you. I get the raging horn just looking at ya.'

I got a happy smile in response to this, so I went back to trying to figure out what the hell I was trying to say. 'It's only that I thought it might be interesting to spend a bit of time doing stuff with a chick for a change. Instead of just, you know, sprinting for the bed at the speed of light all the time.'

Rachelle stared at me for a moment then she suddenly leaned forward and kissed me hard on the cheek. 'I knew you was worth a shit,' she said with her eyes shining, 'I'm glad I kept ya.' She kissed me again, on the lips this time, 'though I gotta say I've always found shagging was a real good way to meet people.'

'Yep,' I said giving her a bit of a cuddle, 'that's what my Nana always used to say too.'

Rachelle laughed and scruffed up my flowing locks for me. 'So what do ya wanna do instead?'

It was a good question. And, as I wasn't too hot at figuring out answers for myself, I thought about Kurt and how he'd tackle matters. 'Well, a mate of mine has this theory that the world is totally random. And going by the bullshit that happens out there every day, who can argue the toss with him?'

Rachelle nodded. Even she couldn't find fault in that. 'So,' I went on, 'he says that if the world is random, the only way to find out what to do next is to roll some dice. Now, I haven't got any dice but I do have a dartboard,' I hopped away from her and pulled my dartboard out from a cupboard, 'so I say that we tear out a page from the Yellow Pages and stick it on this dartboard. Then we'll chuck some darts at it and whatever comes up is what we'll do.'

'Yeah,' Rachelle said, 'but there's a mistake in that nob mate of your's' plan. Which Yellow Page do we stick up there? There's thousands of them.'

That was a good point too but I already had an answer ready sliced: 'Then we just chuck the book up in the air and whatever page it opens to when it lands is our baby.'

Rachelle squinted at me. 'Left or right page?'

'Just do it!'

'All right,' Rachelle laughed and grabbed the Yellow Pages, 'let's just hope we get Waterbeds!'

She chucked the Yellow Pages up in the air and they landed with a thump on the lounge table and knocked a couple of empty beer cans onto the carpet. We both hurried over to see what had turned up.

'Concreting contractors?' Rachelle said with a wrinkled up nose.

'Try again.'

The Yellow Pages clipped the lightshade this time, knocking off a cloud of dust.

'Flood and fire restoration work or... Floor coverings.'

'Try again.'

'This is becoming dumb.'

'Try a-bloody-gain.'

This time the Yellow Pages bounced off the wall dangerously close to my head.

'Let me guess...' Rachelle said squatting down and putting her hand on the open page without looking at it, like she was an ESP expert, 'I say it'll be bolt suppliers or waste management services.' She opened her eyes and read the page, 'oh, close enough! Blasting contractors!'

Hmm. This didn't seem to be working.

'Duane, I'm not interested in doing any industrial shit! You don't wanna shag? Fine, we'll read a book or watch TV. Let's just leave the welding goggles out of it shall we?'

'Okay, change of plan – '

'Yeah, stop listening to your mate. Face it, he's a nob sandwich!'

I just ignored her and grabbed the White Pages. 'We just had the wrong book that's all,' I started flipping through the pages while Rachelle watched.

'Oi! Where's the "randomness" in that?'

I found the games and entertainment page I was looking for, tore it out and stuck it on the dartboard.

'Right!' I said handing Rachelle a dart, 'quit guts-aching and chuck that.'

She threw the dart so hard it sank up to the feathers in the wall – about two feet away from the board. I handed her another dart. 'Try again.'

This time she got it on the board and we both hurried over to see what it had hit.

'Chess? Oh, piss off! I don't wanna play that!'

Rachelle's dart had skewered the phone number for the Glenvale West Chess Club. I looked at her with my most serious face.

'You have to, babe. The Lord of the Darts has spoken.'

Rachelle looked real slutted at this turn of events but she didn't say nothing more. I raced over to the cupboard and started ratting through all the junk. I was pretty sure I still had a board and a plastic chess set from when I was a kid in with all the other stuff I had nearly chucked out a million times and wimped out on.

'I think I've got a board in – yes!'

I found them under an old sleeping bag and some second hand golf clubs someone had given to me in order to save themselves a trip to the tip. I hurried over to the dining table and started setting them all up for a game. Rachelle just sat there looking real sour about the whole thing.

'Don't ya have to be Russian or something to play this?' she grumbled.

'Whaddya bitching at me for, Rachellesky? You threw the frigging dart!' I finished putting all the pieces in place. I spun the board around so that I was white and Rachelle was black and made my first move straight away. Rachelle sullenly moved a pawn a couple of spaces forward. I moved another pawn a space then waited for her to move again. And waited...

'It's your turn...' I said chugging back on my impatience.

She kept her hands in her lap. 'How 'bout we spice this up a bit?'

'You're not supposed to spice up chess! It's a brain game.'

'So, maybe I don't feel that brainy tonight.'

'Quit guts-aching and just do it!'

Rachelle glared at me. 'C'mon! I'm trying! But I thought games were supposed to be fun. And here you are barking out the orders like you were running a school holiday camp!'

Much as I hated to admit it, she had a point there. You had to be a certain type of person to get your jollies by creasing your brow. And if this was what Ruskies did for a laugh, it was no wonder they always looked like they'd just stepped clear of a funeral all the time.

'All right,' I said, 'how do you wanna spice this up?'

'Oh, I could think of a million ways...' she said leaning across the board and nibbling on my ear.

'Uh ah,' I said, pushing her back, 'narrow it down to just the ones that include us finishing this goddamn game.'

'Okay,' she said jumping up and scampering out of the room. I didn't have to sit and wonder what she was up to for long neither as she reappeared in the doorway soon enough holding a couple of bottles of port that she'd swiped from my booze hoard. 'How 'bout we turn it into a drinking game?' she said jiggling the bottles, her eyes all gleaming, 'and every time a bit gets killed, we fill it up and skull from it?'

I thought about this for a second. Under Rachelle's rules, we'd still get to play our game, so the Lord of the Darts would be appeased. And I was trying something different too which sounded fair enough to me.

'Okay, ' I said, 'how 'bout if a bit of yours gets taken, you skull from the ruby. And if a bit of mine gets taken, I skull from the tawny?'

Rachelle was back to being super happy. 'Now you're talking!' she said and jumped back to the table all keen to play, 'it's my turn right?'

As you can probably guess, the game was fast and bloody from here on in, with both army generals proving pretty reckless with their soldiers' lives. Knights, rooks, pawns and bishops charged at each other like madmen all seeking the glory of being drowned in fortified wine on the battlefield. And the generals didn't get off scotfree neither. Pretty soon both me and Rachelle were both ratfaced drunk and lolling about, barely able to focus on the black and white checks in front of us.

'Ha ha!' I slurred charging my last knight sideways across the board and knocking one of my opponent's pieces off onto the floor, 'I just wasted your queen!'

'Uh! Ya bastard!' Rachelle grunted and lifting up her ruby bottle to peer at it. 'Looks like I'm empty too,' she staggered up to her feet and wobbled about a bit. 'Still, I better pay the price...' with that, she reached down and pulled my T shirt off over her head to reveal that superb set of tits she had on her.

'Huh huh!' I gurgled while watching her, 'so we're playing strip chess now?'

'Yep,' she said giving them a wiggle, 'and I can't wait for 'mate!'

That was more than enough of a red flag for me and I sent the table, board and remaining chess pieces flying as I lunged toward her tearing off my gruts as I went. Then we were fully into it, shagging like crazy on the floor. On the couch. Against the wall. On the table...

At last, I'd had enough. I was spent. We lay together on the couch and I covered us with the unzipped sleeping bag I'd found earlier in the closet. We just lay there quiet and happy for a while before Rachelle asked a question that obviously must have been burning into her soul...

'Do male birds have balls?'

Huh? What was it with her and all the bird questions?

'I don't know babe, I've never looked. Why don't you go part some feathers down at the pet shop and find out?'

'I can't. They'd arrest me for being a bird molester.'

'Then you're going to have to die wondering,' I said, 'because I can't help ya. Why do you wanna know anyway?'

'I'm just curious that's all. But you can relax, Officer coz curiousity ain't a crime you can bust me for. I know coz I checked.'

'Not yet it ain't,' I said, 'but give 'em time.'

There was a bit more quiet while we both thought about things, then Rachelle started up again.

'Cats and dogs have got balls haven't they? So birds should do too eh?' Aha! She was still thinking about our feathered friends.

'Yeah, but just because they've got balls doesn't mean that they shag though,' I said, 'because fish don't shag. The chick fish just swims along and dumps her eggs in the bottom of the stream ready for the fella to come and spunk all over them.'

Rachelle nodded a bit as she chugged back this wisdom. But she obviously hadn't finished with the birds yet, 'yeah, but birds do shag though,' she said, 'coz I've seen them at it.'

'Me too,' I said chuckling at the thought of it, 'it's real awkward eh? All that flapping away like crazy.'

'And it doesn't last long neither. He's all finished in a couple of seconds. Some bloody root! I don't know why she bothers!'

'It's so she can get her hooks into him, that's why,' I said, 'you watch next time you see a couple of birds hard at it. As soon as he's shot his load, he legs it for the hills. Then boom! She's flying after him in a flash. Nag, nag, nag!'

Rachelle turned to look hard at me. 'Is that what you think women are all about?' she asked, 'getting their hooks in and nagging guys?'

Uh oh. The conversation had suddenly taken a dangerous turn. I better cool this iron off before it branded my butt. 'Nah,' I said giving a bit of a fake yawn, 'I was only joking about that.'

She wasn't in a buying mood. 'You do though,' she said, her voice starting to creep up the octave scale, 'you think I've been chasing you hard don't you?'

'Well, you did come onto me in the pub.'

'And it pissed you off didn't it?'

'What is this? The frigging third degree?'

'Stop squeaking and answer the bloody question!'

'What bloody question?'

'Did it piss you off that I came after you?'

I had no idea where she was going with this, other than to drive the goods train into the explosives store. Chicks man! What was their problem?

'Why would I get pissed off?' I demanded getting up on one elbow to show how mad I was, 'I got a root out of it! And a real good one too,' I added in a nicer voice and stroked her awesome thigh that was right there in front of me.

I was wasting my time though because she was now pulling into Rarksville station. 'Oh bullshit!' she screeched batting away my hand from her leg like it was a perv's. 'You're just saying that coz we're in bed! You don't actually like me at all!'

Oh man!

'Don't start that crap!' I was getting mad myself, 'of course I like you, otherwise you wouldn't be in here. So stop talking that shit.'

But she wasn't listening to me. In fact, I don't even think she was talking to me anymore neither. It sounded like she was trying to convince herself of something. 'No. I don't think you like any women at all really,' she went on, 'that's why you're single all the time.'

Then suddenly she sat up and gave her head a quick flick like she was shaking scales off her eyes. 'What was I thinking?' she said and then leapt out of the bed and went out of the room.

I watched her go then pushed my fingers into my eyeballs to try and help me calm down. This was not the way I wanted to end the night!

There was a noise at the door and Rachelle came back in fully dressed. She must have gone around grabbing everything off the lightshades and such. She was also smiling a smile you wouldn't want to keep in your wallet.

'Look, I'm sorry,' she said in a real cold type voice, 'but I'm just not in a good state at the moment.'

'No shit!' I said back.

She pulled a face. 'I better go eh.'

I wasn't sure whether she wanted me to beg her to stay or not but I really didn't care. This sort of shit would not be encouraged by my lips. 'Okay then. See ya!'

The front door slammed hard.

I lay back on the bed and shook my fists up at no one in particular. Why? Why does it always come to this sooner or later? And I certainly never expected it with her. I thought she was different but no, welcome back same old, same old.

I shook the dust out of my flowing locks. I'd never seen any of this coming with this one. How did it start? We were talking about birds' balls was it?

Jeez! Were we really? How did that happen? Weird.

I sighed and looked around the room. Well, it looked like she was gone. Bugger! I'd really quite liked her. She was funny and smart – and she was a really good root too...

I don't know, maybe she was right. Maybe I really didn't like chicks deep down in my guts. Well, I'll tell you one thing, I sure didn't like that interrogation crap they always do, that's for sure! I mean, jeez, that's what we do at work to goddamn crims! I tell you, being with a chick is like being a slater in a piece of rotting old wood. I'd be as happy as Larry there in my little burrow then someone would chuck the log onto the fire and I'd have no choice but to burn up with it.

Ah well, there was no use grizzle-gutsing on about it. She was gone and I'd have to go get another one.

I started thinking about that hippy chick from the market. I wondered if she gave her fella a real working over about nothing in particular all the time.

Maybe she didn't have a fella...? And, if she didn't, I wonder if she'd ever set to on the couch like that...?

~~~~

THE ANCIENT LORE OF MEN

I woke up freezing in the morning as the nylon sleeping bag had slipped off during the night leaving my bare bollocks to turn blue with the cold. But after a hot shower and coffee I was ready to face the day again. I was still gutted though about Rachelle blowing up and storming out last night. I'd hoped it had just been a bad dream but my freezing balls had been a grim reminder of the reality of the situation.

Goddammit! She'd really got under my skin too. Normally I always got a little bit soppy whenever I busted up with a chick that I'd had more than just a couple of roots with. But I accepted that that came with the territory.

But with this one, I felt I was going to be doing it a bit tougher. I actually really liked her and the next few days might be a little rough unless I kept myself busy. I'd do best to bury myself in work.

And there was a lot to do. I still wasn't one inch closer to making my colourful drug bust and I had a sacred quest to take care of for Dog. There could be no more shagging about, a big fat finger would have to be making a loud "pop!" sound as it got pulled out of a nefarious corner. But the quest had to come first as Dog's mateship card overtrumped my boss' mere facecard orders. Bosses are dime a dozen but old mates are always in short circulation.

I reached for the phone. It was time to meet Alex for brekkie...

*

Like most of us in Glenvale, Alex enjoyed value for money. Therefore, when I suggested a truckstop diner as a venue for our brekkie/council of war, he had no qualms at all.

Truckies are notorious for their love of food, even though they don't have the world's most physical job, and won't settle for anything less than a shitload of stuff on their plate when it comes to brekkie. Truckstop diners know this, or at least the ones still in business do, and serve appropriate meals accordingly. Of course a truckie joint isn't the only place to score a decent feed, but I guess the plotting that was going on in the back of my mind influenced my decision.

Big Mamma's, the place where we parked up was like most of them, with a big gravel yard outside for all the rigs, while inside it was all plain wooden tables, blackboard menus and wet teaspoons inside 5 litre instant coffee jars. Me and Alex both ordered the Big Mamma's Breakfast then I spelled out what Dog wanted us to do.

Alex was less than impressed with our sacred mission: 'Why the hell have we gotta bail him out for?'

'He's me mate. That's why.'

My partner snorted. 'Huh! Some mate.'

I turned on him. 'Now listen!' I said getting real rarked with his attitude, 'you don't get to choose your mates, they just happen. So when a mate comes calling; you don't question, you just answer. It is the way of the ancient lore of men.'

'Bullshit! I bet that prick would never stand up for you.'

'Oh yeah? Well, touch wood...' I said reaching across to tap Alex on the swede, '...that I never need his help. But should it ever come to pass, I hope you're there to chow down on those sour words of yours when Dog rides in on the big white stallion.'

'We'll see,' Alex grumbled, 'we'll see.'

I nodded firmly. 'That's right my friend. We will see,' I paused to shovel in another forkful of beans and toast, 'and that brings me to the second part of my request...'

Alex eyed me warily. 'What? You mean there's more?'

I nodded. 'Yep. In order to move the horse, we'll need a vehicle,' I took a bite of my toast, 'and so I thought about your band truck...'

Alex became very still. He tried to make his voice stay calm but I could hear a quaver in it. 'What about it?'

'I'd say it's pretty much exactly racehorse sized.'

'No way!'

I munched at him. 'Why not? What else are we going to use? My shitbox Toyota?'

Alex flicked baked beans on to the floor in pointing his fork aggressively at me. 'You're not using my truck, Duane.'

I pretended not to hear him. 'We couldn't use my Valiant, even if it wasn't in the shop – '

'The answer is "no".'

'– because the Valiant isn't big enough. The only thing I know of that is big enough – '

'No, Duane!'

'– is your truck, Alex. It has to be your truck.'

'I already said "no".'

I pushed my plate aside and leaned in towards him over the table. 'What've you got against horses? Huh? A gentle horsie standing there in the field, quietly munching on a bit of hay... what is there to be afraid of?' I added just to twist the knife a little.

'Piss off, Duane! I'm not scared of horses.'

'Then what's your problem? This quiet old gluebag won't be doing anything sinister back there. It won't be nicking any of your gear or smashing anything up. All it'll be doing is rolling around in the back like all your amps and luggage usually do.'

'Yeah, but luggage doesn't shit. And it doesn't stink of horses and horseshit!'

'Who says it's going to shit?'

'Horses always shit! And they when they shit, they shit a mountain of it! You should know, Duane, coz horseshit's all you talk and you talk a mountain of it!'

Alex was shouting so loud the truck drivers in the diner glanced over at us with glares on their faces. I got the feeling they'd rather we either ate quietly or had a full-blown punch up in here. Anything in between wasn't on the menu.

It was time to change tack. I leaned forward and spoke quietly to my partner. 'When was the last time you took a dump, Alex?'

'Piss off!'

'No, really! When was the last time you did?'

Alex looked at me with maximum suspicion. 'This morning. Why?'

I lowered my voice even more as though I was asking him to tell me a special secret. 'Is that when you normally do it? In the morning?'

'Yes,' Alex drooped his head real low and I could see his knuckles were white as he clutched his knife and fork, 'in the morning...'

'And do you reckon you'll need to go again today?'

'I'm not a bloody horse, Duane.'

My patience snapped. 'Oh come on, Alex!' I shouted at my partner, 'quit arsing about! It's only horseshit, not acid! And if the horse does crap in your precious truck, I'll clean it out myself. I'll even use my bloody tongue if it stops your goddamn whinging for five minutes!'

'Hey!' one of the truck drivers yelled at us from another table, 'give him your truck, boy! What you think they're for? Looking at?'

All the other truck drivers laughed and I smirked at Alex in triumph. My partner just went back to eating his meal and pretending to ignore all the rarks he was getting. 'When this is done...' he muttered to me between mouthfuls, 'I'm gonna kill you!'

~~~~

A SHAG'S BETTER THAN A WANK

To be honest, I hate the countryside. It's full of insects and shit that buzz around trying to get in your ear or grovel around under your clothes drinking your blood and replacing it with their own goddamn itchy poison. I much prefer the city with the endless drone of the traffic calming the nerves.

To make things worse, I'd spent much of the day sitting in the cab beside grouchy old Alex as he lurched and wove his band truck along some pretty straight roads on the way out to Forest Hill. Either my partner had won his driver's licence from a circus sideshow coconut shy or he was trying to rark up the racehorse we were carrying in the back as payback for being roped in for this duty.

It had been a long slow day with lots of driving. First, we'd had to go and get Alex's truck and unload all his band gear from it. Easier said than done! I couldn't believe how much stuff those guys carted around with them. Anyone would think they were Pink Floyd they had so many amps, back up amps, guitars, drum kits, mic stands and stage sets. While lugging all his shit around Alex had offered me a job as a roadie for the band and I'd replied by naming a selection of lakes that he and his bandmates could go jump in.

After we'd finished that, we'd had to go and pick up Bogan Boy from his stall and that was over an hour's drive both there and back. Considering that we were "nicking" him, it had all been embarrassingly easy. Dog had told me that the trainers take the horses out for runs at different times of the day and that Bogan Boy would be back in his stall around lunchtime. He'd also hinted that we wouldn't have to worry about anyone else being around while we were at it so there must be a few trainers at least in on his doping scheme. Which was all very dodgy.

His horse must also be used to being loaded into trucks because he didn't complain at all when we got him to climb up a ramp into the back of Alex's truck.

Now after about four hours – only two and a half if anyone else was driving! – of grinding our way out to far distant Forest Hill, we'd pulled over at the side of the road at dusk for the last pitstop before we got there. While I slashed, I was being divebombed by a whole heap of buzzing creatures I never knew existed before. Hurrying my business, I realised that we were lucky to be relatively insect-free back in Glenvale because the only bugs that were able to survive the pollution of the city seemed to be flies and cockroaches. Everything else was either zapped in the fog of petrol fumes or got so disorientated that it flew off to join an insect commune somewhere in Bolivia.

Our local flies and cockroaches must love lead and carbon monoxide though and I'm sure it's made them stronger over the years. They must breathe in the smog and its evolutionised them into creatures of their environment. They look all shiny and metallic looking and the drone our flies make is deeper and more throaty like well tuned pistons. And I'm positive that if you glanced at them under the microscope nowadays you'd see a tiny chrome hood ornament there on their foreheads.

Once we'd finished both me and Alex dashed back into the cab of his truck and slammed the doors shut on the plague of insects outside.
'Bloody biting bastards!' snapped my partner once we'd snuffed out the last bug that had tried to hitch a ride with us in the truck, 'you're gonna owe me so bad for this!'

'Don't worry,' I replied using up all my willpower in trying not to scratch my itching arms and face, 'we're nearly there now and this'll all be over soon.'

Alex's face was a picture postcard of misery as he started up the truck again and headed approximately for the road. 'I tell ya, the next time you want a favour, I'm gonna run for the hills naked!'

Jeez, he was really rarked and, to be honest, I couldn't really blame him. Either that or all the bug poison pulsing through my veins was making me light-headed. I decided it was time to cheer him up a bit. 'Hey, how're the jazz chords coming along?'

'Piss off!'

I pretended he hadn't said anything. 'The reason I ask, is because I've heard something that might interest you.'

My partner was quiet for a moment as he tried to decide whether I was winding him up or not. 'Eh?' he let himself say after a while.

'Remember the Bull and Bear?'

He nodded reluctantly.

'Well, apparently old Rex Wildblood there is keen for some scat cat scooby doo shit to replace those tired old First Offence wannabes he's got stinking up the joint.' I watched as Alex sat a little more upright in his seat.

'Yeah?' was all he said though.

'Yeah,' I replied inspecting my fingernails, 'hard to believe I know, but there you go.'

Alex couldn't resist the bait. 'So, you think I should give him a call maybe?'

I shook my head. 'Nah. You'd be wasting your time.'

My partner's face went black. 'Whaddya mean, ya bastard?'

'Because...' I waited for a moment just to twist the knife a little. '...I've already booked you guys in with him for this Saturday night.'

There was a few seconds of quiet while Alex drank this down. 'You did that?' he asked after a bit.

'Yeah. I figured that it was about time you guys had an audience rather than just jamming it up by yourselves stashed away in that Secret Squirrel hidey hole. And a shag's always better than a wank in my book.'

'Oh, I dunno what to say,' Alex's voice had gone all emotional on him which was highly embarrassing for the both of us, 'so are you coming along too?'

'Nah, I bloody hate jazz. You pricks never know when to end a song,' I said relieved of the chance to clear the air, 'no, I'm probably going to be a shitload more use to you cruising along to Axl's gig. Remember that's on Saturday night too.'

Alex went all pale and the truck did a major wobble on the road. 'Oh yeah! It is too! Jeez! I can't do this, Duane.'

'Quit talking shit,' I said yawning, 'of course you can. In fact, you gotta do it, you're booked in already. Don't worry about Axl, you've seen him play a million times before. Just tell him what the story is and I know he'll understand.'

Alex was shaking his head. 'Oh, I dunno...'

'Just shut it and listen. I'll go along to his gig instead and rark up the cheerleading while you concentrate on your doo dee doos. All I need from you is your camcorder so I can take it with me and film everything with hair on the stage. Then you can sit down and watch all of his solos over and over, once you've finished spotting hash with all the goatees.'

The truck wobbled again as Alex made heavy work of chugging down this new information. 'And, for Christ's sake!' I added, 'you see that black stuff with the white dashes on it? It's called a "road". Try to occasionally keep at least a couple of your wheels on it will ya?'

Alex wasn't listening to me though. 'What sort of thing do you reckon Rex want us to do?'

I shrugged. 'Don't ask me! You're the bloody muso! Just make it up as you go along, isn't that what you guys always do?'

My partner chuckled at me. 'Always, you're squawking about us playing the same stuff over and over. And as soon as we do something different, you're giving us an earful for being weirdos! We just can't win with you guys!'

'Oh boo hoo!' I pretended to cry, 'what's that? Some lyrics to My Broken Arse – Vol 2?'

'Ah shut up, ya egg sandwich!'

I went quiet for a bit as I thought about Alex and his mates getting into their jazz jam. I'd seen him playing rock plenty enough but I'd never seen him do any of that other stuff. A few years ago Alex used to sometimes get lost in the music on stage and he'd pull faces when he was doing a solo. But I hadn't seen him do anything like that for a while. Usually he just looked bored or like he was thinking of something else while he was playing nowadays. I guessed he'd be like his old self with the jazz, mugging away like crazy while he ripped out the riffs. I hoped the crowd at the Bull and Bear's Highway Bar wouldn't mind him making faces at them while he was on stage. But in all honesty, they'd probably be too wasted to care.

'By the way, you clowns now answer to the handle; "Sunshine Superlove",' I said to break the silence.

'What?' Alex screeched and we both were thrown about the cab like rag dolls as he completely gave up holding onto the steering wheel, 'that sounds like a bloody hippy name!'

'I know, I know,' I sighed once I'd unstuck my face from the windscreen, 'sorry about that. But it was all I could think of at the time.'

My partner was furious. 'Then why don't you think with your head instead of your dick for a change?' he raged, 'the guy's'll kill me when I tell them that!'

'Well, let me tell them then,' I snarled back, my blood coming to the boil, 'and if there's any more complaints, I'll be more than happy to bow out and let them get off their lazy butts and dig up their own goddamn gigs in future!'

That shut Alex up. For quite a while too. I guessed he was feeling real guilty for being such a sourpuss at me lending a guiding hand to his dead-in-the-ditchwater muso career. After a bit he started talking again about something else, which was his way of saying sorry I guess.

'You know, there was this truck driver who had an accident once,' Alex began as we both sat and watched the road get eaten up by his truck's fender, 'he rolled his rig down the side of a hill. And when the rescuer guys cut what was left of him out of the twisted metal, they pissed themselves. Because they saw he'd been picking his nose there in the cab. And he must have been really reaching in because on impact his finger had come straight through the nostril and split his nose open almost back to his eye.'

'Yeah? Really?'

'Well, nah. I was just having ya on about that,' Alex said glancing over at me before adding thoughtfully, 'but it could've happened though eh?'

'Yeah, it could've happened,' I agreed while shaking the dust out of my flowing locks, 'like you could've been born with a brain instead of just a battered pie inside your skull.'

Alex wrinkled up his nose at me. 'What is it with you?' he snarled, 'have you got some sort of disease that makes you such a prick all the time?'

'Yeah!' I snapped back, 'it's called a "partner!" I caught mine at work and there's no cure for it except for death by fire!'

My partner looked daggers at me. 'Hey, you shouldn't say things like that to me,' he muttered, 'coz I can always use them in a song back at you.'

'Yeah, and play that song at a gig organised by me! Now can it will ya?' I could see the stone gates of St Catherine's School for Girls appearing in our headlights, 'we're just about there and I don't want you screeching out in the night to let everyone know we're here and up to no goddamn good.'

'All right, all right,' Alex grumbled sourly, 'where the hell are we going then?'

'Near here,' I replied looking around out through the windows of the truck, 'Dog said there was a riding school right next to the St Catherine's. All we've gotta do is find it and deposit our package there and our mission is complete. Then we leave the okies to chow down on our dust as we get the fuck outta Dodge.'

~~~~

DOING A TAPDANCE ON MARS

Alex slowed down a bit as we drove past the school peering all around in the dark looking for the riding school. And dark it was. Country people were pretty black and white types I'd decided. They liked their days bright and their nights dark because they sure hadn't splashed out on many streetlights around this area. It was probably to help cover for any nefarious deeds they got up to with the animals at night.

But, the bonus was, it would also help cover up our nefarious deed – so long as we could find the damn riding school. It must be around here somewhere...

We crept around the corner of the school in our truck and some rural type buildings came into view. They looked promising, they weren't solid and well-kept like the big stone school buildings, they were more wooden and I thought I could see haybales sticking out of one.

'How about them over there?' I whispered to Alex and he nodded back. He drove closer and we could now see tall wooden fences that must be for keeping the horses from sprinting off. A sign shone in the headlights; "Forest Hill Riding School". I figured we'd collected enough clues to make a deduction.

'Okay, this'll do us,' I said and Alex killed the headlights for the last fifty metres before sliding up next to a low long building that looked like the type of place where a riding school would stash their horses.

Noiselessly we jumped down from the truck and were immediately hit by the smell of horseshit.

'Eurr! Jesus! That better not be Dog's nag!' Alex hissed at me with his arm over his nose.

'We're parked up right next to the stables, ya numbnuts!' I hissed back, 'so of course it stinks of horseshit around here.'

'But I thought you said horses didn't shit!' Alex grinned and scampered off towards the back of the truck to open up the door. I reached back into the cab for some torches.

Alex's truck was real handy to have around not only because of its size but because it also had all sorts of useful stuff in it. In this case it was torches. The reason he had them was, like I've said before, he was always getting locked out of pubs for gigs. So by keeping some in his truck, he could then see when he was busy breaking into a pub ready to set up his band gear. Now those same torches were about to become mighty useful in helping us light the way ahead for Bogan Boy to see where his new digs were.

There was a muffled cry from the back of the truck and I immediately raised the torches like weapons. Had Alex been attacked back there?

I sneaked along the side of the truck as noiselessly as I could – then leapt out with my torches ready for action!

'Oh, mate! You better start warming up that tongue, Duane.' No one was attacking Alex. He was just standing on the tailgate looking in at Bogan Boy and shaking his head in disgust. 'Just look at that would ya?' my partner snarled, 'just look at that!'

I climbed up on the tailgate beside him and looked inside the back of the truck. The smell was intense and as I looked I could just make out that the floor of his truck was covered in shit, inches deep in parts.

'Well, it's no surprise the way you drive,' I said probably unhelpfully, 'coz I almost crapped myself a couple of times along the way.'

But Alex wasn't anywhere near smiling. 'Stupid bloody animal! We shoulda put a cork in it!'

'Easy, easy!' I said as I thought my partner might do something dumb here, 'don't go rarking him up unless you want your nuts kicked clean off. You gotta watch these thoroughbreds, they're super toey they are.'

'And whacked out on whatever juice Dog was giving him,' Alex said glowering like crazy at old Bogan Boy, 'the dumbass nag's probably still doing a tapdance on Mars.'

But he did cool off a bit and between us we managed to get old Bogan Boy to back up out of the truck. If Bogan Boy was disturbed by being whisked away from his favourite oats stand and driven around through the night by two complete strangers, he sure didn't show it. He just calmly went wherever we led him and didn't make much noise other than to snort occasionally through his massive nostrils. Maybe he was, like Alex had said, still doing a tapdance on Mars somewhere inside that big glossy head of his.

Me and Alex led our captive through the gate and along the stalls until we found one that was empty. It was quite large inside and there was a loft sort of thing that ran along all the stalls. This was covered in hay which I guess somebody pushed down for the horses to eat. I didn't see any beer troughs though which is what I'd be needing to help keep that dry old stuff down if I had to chow down on it.

~~~~

THE SIGN OF FOUR

We'd just got Bogan Boy settled in for the night and were just about to close the gate on his stall when there was a sound like a small voice gasping from a stack of hay in the corner. Me and Alex both whirled around with our torches to pick out two small pale faces peering out from between a couple of haybales.

'Come out with your hands up!' I cracked out in my most cop-like voice and to my surprise, that's exactly what they did. And once they crawled free of the hay, me and Alex were shining our lights on two small girls of about twelve dressed in matching pyjamas and dressing gowns tied tightly in the front.

'Good one, girl!' the dark haired one hissed angrily at her blonde mate from behind a raised arm.

'Who are you?' I commanded from behind my torch searchlight.

'I'm Margot,' said the dark haired one.

'And I'm Stacey,' said the blonde one.

'And whaddya doing out here in the middle of the night in your jarmies?' I demanded with a hint of rark.

'Oh, we're boarders at St Catherine's over there,' Margot said and they both pointed over to where some large building shaped silhouettes lurked sinisterly on the edge of the riding paddocks.

'Handy,' Alex muttered nodding his head in approval.

'And we saw your flashlights dancing about in the stables from our window so we had to come and see if you were hurting the horses.'

Me and Alex glanced at each other and both killed our torches at the same time. There was a moment of quiet as we all got used to the gloom in the stable.

'Don't worry,' I said, 'we're not here to hurt the horses. We're just switching a couple around for a day.' Alex glared at me in the half light for saying that but I honestly couldn't think of any other way of explaining our nefarious behaviour. 'Girls, this is the racehorse Bogan Boy.'

'And he's so beautiful!' Stacey forgot she was supposed to be a prisoner and went over to stroke Bogan Boy, 'can I ride him?'

'No way!' Cold sweat broke out all over my back at the thought of this tiny girl on the back of Bogan Boy as he thundered down the straight, 'I can't let you ride that! It's not one of the goddamn donkeys you ride here –'

'Don't you say that about my Bonnie!'

'Whatever. Look girls, this is a genuine racehorse bred to run fast and win races –'

'And drugged up to beat the odds!' Alex added, somewhat unnecessarily I thought.

The girls were of the same mind. 'What's his problem?' Margot asked me dropping her hands too seeing as Stacey hadn't got shot for doing it.

'He's a bloody prem, that's what he is!' I replied giving Alex a wicked stare before turning back to the girls, 'but don't worry he's on medication for it.'

The girls looked confused at this. 'What's a prem?' Stacey asked.

Goddammit! I wasn't used to dealing with kids. I had to watch what I was saying or else it'd be coming back at me. 'Er, it's a bad word that'll get you into trouble if you use it. Now promise me you won't try and ride this horse,' I added hurriedly to change the subject, 'you can pat him if you want, but that's all!'

The girls looked at each other a bit grumpy with all my orders. 'Why should we?' Stacey asked, 'we don't even know who you are.'

'Er, I'm Rocky and this is Crusher,' I said saying the first names that popped into my head. I couldn't see the sense in wallowing any deeper into the mud by giving out our real ones.

'Yeah? You don't look like wrestlers,' Margot said eying us suspiciously.

'No. But both our Mas had real wicked senses of humour when it came to names. So that's how me and Crush here became friends at school, everyone thought we were a tag team.'

The girls obviously weren't buying this but I could see by the confusion on their faces that they weren't sure how to argue with it neither. Whatever, it had shut off the questions tap. It was time to make a play...

'Girls, we need your help,' I said as nicely as I could in the sinister dark of a deserted stable at midnight, 'it may look bad but me and Ale – er, Crusher here mean no harm and we're just trying to help out a mate. We swear on a saint's bones that we are not going to hurt any horses and we'll be gone soon. We just need you to pretend that nothing ever happened here tonight and that this beautiful horse here...' At this point I made a great show of patting Bogan Boy to show how much I loved him. He wasn't buying it though and snorted as if to say that he thought his crap smelt sweeter than my story, '...is a secret steed that only you and us know about. And he's just here on holiday until his stall at home has been redecorated.'

The girls looked at each other for a moment then nodded, then they turned back to face us.

'We are the Sign of Four...' Stacey began then both her and her mate immediately both made some sort of cross hand signal that looked real similar to the thing Catholics do when they shoot someone.

'Four? Where's the other two then?' I cut in looking around for more teenage girls to pop up. I half expected a swag of them to come swinging in on ropes from the lofts above like ninjas.

'Abby's gone home for the week and Janelle's got the flu,' Margot said rolling her eyes like Janelle was always off sick with something. I knew the type.

'So in order to ensure our silence you'll have to become a sacred member of our club,' Stacey went on in a real serious voice, 'then, and only then, will we be sworn to secrecy.'

I couldn't believe this! 'Are you nuts? This ain't a bloody Nancy Drew story! We're not doing that!'

'We'll tell on you then!'

'And we'll tell on you for being out of your beds at this hour! Then where will the Sign of Four be? You won't be so secret anymore will ya?'

The girls looked real hurt and sulky about this and I started to feel bad for being such a big fat meanie. I looked to Alex for back up, and by doing so gave myself an idea.

'Here's the go.' I said 'If you two keep quiet about this we'll get you some special backstage passes to the Battle of the Bands final this Saturday night.'

Bingo! The girls looked at each other all excited. Alex stared at me in horror.

'How am I going to do that?' he whined.

'Don't worry, you'll find a way,' I waved his guts-aching aside for the good of the mission and looked back to the girls. They were thrilled to bits and almost bouncing off the walls at the thought of some excitement coming into their lives, but then suddenly Stacey stopped and looked all depressed like.

'But hang on,' she said, 'how are we going to get out for the night?'

'Yeah,' Margot joined her in misery, 'Miss Gundesen will never let us go!' Both girls then looked so disappointed I thought they were going to burst into tears.

Now it was Alex's turn to step up to the plate. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. 'Don't worry girls, Rocky will find a way,' he turned to me smiling grimly, 'won't you, Rocky?'

~~~~

WHERE VINEGAR COMES FROM

After that we bounced the girls off back to their dormitory and I reckon they must have only touched the ground a couple of times each they were that excited about this coming Saturday night. I didn't know what I was going to do about getting them late passes for the gig but I'd have at least four hours of mindnumbingly boring time tripping back in the truck to think up something. But first things first, we had to clean out all traces of Bogan Boy's stir in the back. Or at least I did.

My partner drove us out of town and down the highway a bit until we stumbled across a friendly gas station. Alex topped his truck up with gas first then he backed it up to the roadside gutter close enough for the courtesy water hose to still reach. We figured that if the gas station guys were kind enough to let us use their water, the least we could do was try not to spread horseshit all over their nice clean forecourt.

Then Alex went to pay for the gas while I started blasting out the back. Jeez! There was so much crap! It was incredible how much one horse could produce in just a handful of hours. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn that the entire 9th Cavalry had been hiding out with their mighty steeds in the back of Alex's truck. But who knows, maybe it was the drugs that had made it so prolific.

The hose was really good though and had plenty of pressure behind it. I started up high where, somehow, some horse business had splashed and worked my way down the walls. The hose was so powerful it was virtually waterblasting the top layer off all the exposed wood. The clean bits all gleamed in the miserable halflight that filtered in through the back opening from a streetlamp on the highway outside, which made it easier to see where I'd been. I was actually quite pleased with my work, the inside of my partner's truck would definitely end up looking better for the experience once I'd finished. Maybe that would cheer the grumpy old bastard up a bit.

Alex came stumping over to see how I was going. 'Make sure you get it all!' he griped, 'I don't want to ever smell horse in there again!'

'Maybe you should go pick some marigolds to disguise the stink then!' I shouted over the noise of the hose, 'and make yourself a daisy chain while you're at it. It'll go nicely with that big girl's blouse whining of yours!'

My partner gave me an aggressive finger then pointed out a patch of shit I'd somehow overlooked with the hose. 'Hey! You missed a bit! I told you to clean it all up, you goddamn eggburger with chips!'

That was it! I'd had an absolute gutsful of his miserable attitude. I snapped off the hose and turned to point it at his face like a pistol.

'What's the bloody matter with you, man? You're being such a sniveller at the moment! More than usual anyway.'

'Oh, shut up, ya egg,' Alex sneered back at me.

'Nah, I won't! I'm sick of you guts-aching. Now we're not gonna do nothing more till you tell me what's bugging you,' I stepped over to the opening of the truck and sat down on the tailgate looking expectantly at Alex while still holding the turned-off hose.

'Piss off!'

I folded my arms and shook my head. 'Nah! I told you, I'm waiting.'

Alex stared at me like he was thinking of bouncing an anvil off my swede. Then he must have decided it wasn't worth the aggravation to keep biting his tongue.

'All right, you absolute arsehole! I bet on the horses!'

'Eh?' This was news to me. I'd never seen him take an interest in them before. Like they said, it was always the quiet ones.

'I bet all this money and now I find out it's all a big have!'

I squinted at my partner to make sure he wasn't having me on. He didn't seem to be. 'Well, why didn't you stop when you kept losing?'

'Who said I was losing?'

'Come on! You're whining on and on about Dog drugging his horse. You wouldn't give a flying shag if you were winning.'

I had him! And he knew he'd been rumbled so he just looked away back over the forecourt and kept his trap shut. I moved in for the kill. 'So how much have you lost?'

'Oh, stuff all really,' Alex mumbled as he stared intensely at a really interesting rusty bolt on the rear mudguard of the truck, 'I've probably come out even really – '

'Bullshit! How much do you bet every week?'

Alex still wouldn't meet my eyes. 'Not much. Maybe a grand... or three.'

I stared at him. That sounded like a lot of ding to me. 'Jeez Alex! Where'd you get all that?'

'Oh you know, here and there. The band... wages... my winnings... the odd bill...'

Uh oh. I was beginning to understand where some of the vinegar between Alex and his Missus was coming from. I should've guessed it would've been something like this.

'So how much have you bet all up?'

'Oh, thousands.'

'Tens of thousands?'

'Maybe.'

'Hundreds of thousands?'

Alex was outraged. 'Piss off!' he said looking up and glowering at me like crazy. Then he thought for a moment, 'well, maybe,' he said quietly after a while.

'Jesus! And did you win at all?'

'Yeah! 'Course I did! All the time.'

'How much?'

'Oh, thousands... at least!'

Uh oh. That was really bad. Alex was a geegee sucker and he'd been pissing away all his band money for Christ knows how long. He was obviously feeling real bad about it all, especially now that he knew that guys like Dog had been taking the piss so much.

Well, I guess we all suspected that horse racing's as dodgy as a used car dealer's guarantee. But it's only when you actually get drugged up horseshit splattered all over your boots that the bitter reality of it thunders home.

'So,' I said thinking about this as we got back into the truck ready for the long trek home, 'whaddya gonna do about this gambling problem – ?'

'I haven't got a gambling problem!'

'On no! You're sorted you are! You're sure you don't want us to stop off at a casino on the way?'

'Rack off, ya arsehole!' Alex was real pissed off with me now, 'I really don't know why I let you sucker me into telling you anything, coz all I ever do is give you fresh bullets to shoot me with!'

I figured I better drop the subject as he was so mad now it looked like he was ready to have an Exorcist moment and start chundering green bile all over me. So I just kept the gob slammed and we headed for home wrapped in a blanket of total quiet.

~~~~

TWISTING THE KNIFE

Alex's surly silence had a happy payoff for me, as it gave me a chance to plot up a Ms Gundesen approach without my golden thoughts being spoiled by his inane yabber. And, by the time my partner dropped me off back at the eyrie, I reckon I had it sussed. So, after a couple of hours shuteye I had a quick shower and coffee then I started limbering up the fingers ready to dial St Catherine's School for Girls.

You see, I'd shagged a few teachers over the years and they always said that, unlike most industries, the boss lady was always first there in the morning. And that she'd also usually be ploughing into her work even before the barnyard rooster had finished drooling on his pillow.

Therefore, I was hoping five would get me ten that the headmistress, Ms Gundesen, would be head down, bum up at 7.30am in the morning at St Catherine's.

I dialled the number and at least one person was there nice and early as I only had to sit through two rings.

'Good morning, St Catherine's?'

'Oh, hello. Sorry to disturb you this early in the morning but I'm looking to speak to a "Ms Gundesen"?'

'This is she. How may I help you?'

Ha! Bingo! Take a bow, Sherlock Holmes!

'Ms Gundesen, my name is Detective Duane Mullett from the Central Police Station here in Glenvale and I would like to have a quick word with you when you have a spare moment?'

There was a second or two of quiet as Ms Gundesen drank down this disturbing turn of events. I guess nobody really looks forward to a business call from the cops. Especially not at 7.30 on a weekday and when you weren't expecting it. I hoped the headmistress for St Catherine's School for Girls had already had her coffee this morning.

'We could talk now if you wish,' Ms Gundesen had swept her head together real quick. She was actually quite a cool customer was this one. I wondered what she looked like...

'Don't worry,' I said, 'it's nothing sinister to do with your school. It's just that we're following up a lead on a stolen racehorse. And we have received information that a couple of girls from your school may have witnessed two suspects transporting the aforesaid horse into your area.'

'When was this?' Ms Gundesen cut in.

'I am led to believe it was last night.'

'You move very fast,' the headmistress said in a voice that was made half out of awe and the other half out of suspicion.

She was right. I'd probably rung far too early. No cop in the world would be able to move this quick on any case unless he was, well, already involved in the crime itself. It was time to pop a saucepan lid cover on the story I was cooking up; 'Ha hum,' I chuckled as though I was a bit embarrassed at having to mention this, 'yes, well, let me say that some of the horse's owners are very influential people and, they also have my cellphone number.'

'I see,' Ms Gundesen said with a hint of rark like she wouldn't give a shit if a toy got swiped out of a fatcat's cot, 'that doesn't concern me. What does concern me is that two of my pupils were out of their beds at night,' she went on, 'have you any idea as to their identity?'

Now we'd come to the tricky part. How much should I reveal here? I wanted to keep this as low key as possible, but I also didn't want to bare my hairy cheeks over how much I knew.

Low key won. 'Let me see...' I said fiddling around with a pizza delivery brochure I found near the phone to make it sound like I was consulting notes, '... my sources have revealed that they were both about twelve years old and one had blonde hair and the other dark...'

There was no response from Ms Gundesen. It wasn't surprising really. She probably had quite a few kids in that school of hers. I'd have to narrow it down a bit more for her. 'Uhh, and they may also have an interest in Nancy Drew mysteries...' I added hopefully.

Still nothing from the headmistress. Goddammit! I'd have to really loosen off the belt this time. '...and one of them may have called herself "Stacey" and the other "Margot"...'

Bingo! There was a gasp on the line as Ms Gundesen tumbled as to who it was. 'What the dickens were those two doing out at night?' she muttered to herself.

'Any joy?' I asked.

The headmistress swept her head back together again. 'Detective Mullett, I want to know who your "sources" are,' she said in a hardcore voice like she was sentencing me to a year's detention.

'I'm afraid I can't tell you that,' I said thanking my lucky stars for police procedure for the first time in my life, 'just the same as I can't spill the identities of your students to anyone else who asks.'

'I see,' she replied in a voice that obviously wasn't used to having to make compromises all the time, 'so what happens now?'

It was play time. 'Okay, we have every reason to believe that our suspects will be attending the race meet at Clevedon this Saturday night. So we'd like to get young Stacey and Margot along as well and see if we can get a positive ID on these pric – er, suspected offenders.'

'That sounds extremely dangerous, Detective.'

'Nah, they'll be all right,' I said, 'the girls won't be going anywhere near these guys. All they have to do is eyeball them from a distance and give us the nod if they're dirty.'

There was a moment of quiet while Ms Gundesen thought this through. 'You would need the parents' permission of course,' she finally said.

Uh uh! Sorry babe, but that's a real dumb idea. 'Oh, I was rather hoping we could keep everything within the bounds of the school...' I said keeping as calm as I could, '... you know, to avoid any of the negative publicity that people are bound to heap on you guys,' I added just to twist the knife a little.

The headmistress was quiet again. I guess she was probably feeling like she'd been strapped to the front of a railway train at the moment. I should probably try and ease the burden a bit. 'Ms Gundesen, honestly there is nothing to worry about. I will escort the two girls both to and from the race meet and will be personally responsible for their safety.'

'Oh really?'

Uh oh. Could that be a smidgeon of rark I could detect in her voice from down the line? Goddammit! Maybe she was too strong a swimmer for my river of bullshit. There was only one way to find out...

'Yes, ma'am. Why? Do you find that irregular?'

'Oh no. I'm sorry Detective. I would never dare presume to tell you your job,' there was another moment of quiet on the phone before she went on, 'it's just that we are so far away from your... jurisdiction.'

Aha! If I could get this right, everything would be sweet. 'Nevertheless, this is my case. And we are issued with travel chits from time to time, Ms Gundesen.'

'Very good,' she took the shot on the jaw without squealing about it. Whew! I was home and hosed, 'and you can call me Irene,' she added with a smile in her voice. 'Look, I'm sorry to give you such a hard time Detective, it's just that nobody comes all the way out here,' the headmistress went on, her voice having warmed up heaps now that I had offered to take the weight for her. 'I mean, just the other day a clown rang up looking for work and I offered him half a day. He agreed and it was all a fait accompli until he found out where we actually were. Then our conversation quickly degenerated into an exchange containing language that was, quite frankly, unacceptable.'

'Yeah?' I was rarked up at the thought of this clown in facepaint screaming abuse down the phone at a nice schoolteacher lady who was powerless to fight back. 'What was his name? I might just be able to find a job for him too. Somewhere in our target practice range I reckon.'

Irene Gundesen chuckled on the other end of the line. 'Oh don't worry about that, Detective Mullett. I've heard far worse from the mouths of our girls whenever they think I'm out of earshot.'

Margot and Stacey had been giving old Irene some bad press. She didn't seem that mean after all. Then again I remembered that those two girls had a pair of fierce imaginations between them and if they felt like conjuring up a baddie then there wasn't going to be much that could stop them.

'Anyway,' the headmistress from St Catherine's School for Girls was saying, 'I must get on. So I expect we'll be seeing you out here sometime on Saturday afternoon?'

'With bells on,' I replied, 'but in the meantime, don't say nothing to the girls. I don't want them to let anything slip to any of their schoolmates. You never know how quickly news can spread.'

~~~~

A MESSAGE FROM THE MARKET

Just as I hung up there was a knock at the door. I looked at Time Hawk up on the wall. It was barely a quarter to eight. Who could that be?

Ah, it was probably Rachelle! She would've finally seen the error of her ways and had been out walking all night waiting for me to get back so she could apologise. She must have seen my light on from out on the street and come straight up.

I grinned to myself. I hoped she hadn't bothered with any knickers! I could sure use a bit of "making up" at the moment. It'd been a long and hard night. A bit of Rachelle wildcat action could just be the tonic I needed.

I plastered a big grin on my face and threw open the door...

But it wasn't Rachelle. Unless she'd grown about six inches and put on about a hundred and fifty pounds overnight.

I didn't get much of a chance to figure out exactly who it was at my door. For, the very split second I realised that my morning visitor wasn't Rachelle, I also noticed that an unbelievably large fist shaped object was heading towards my face. And it was travelling far too fast for me to be able to focus on it –

*

I woke up and it was all dark. Not just night dark, but inside a black nun dressed for a funeral dark.

I couldn't move my hands or legs neither and the metal pressed up against my cheek was vibrating. There was also a muffled sound of an engine and the air reeked of petrol and carbon monoxide. This was not good...

Desperately I tried to wriggle myself free but didn't achieve much except get tired. I was tied up with some sort of tape that was almost as solid as cement and no amount of twisting my limbs was going to loosen it off. Even Harry Houdini would've been tied up in knots by this stuff.

I calmed down a bit and tried to figure out what I could about where I was. I must have a sack of some kind over my head because I could feel it against my face and hair. I must be in a dark place too because I could breathe through the sack but no light shined through the holes. I kicked my strapped legs out and barked my shins on something hard and sharp. Once the dots disappeared from in front of my eyes I tried kicking out again, only slower this time. I hit the thing again and it made a metallic clank and moved a bit.

Ha! If it was metal maybe I could rub or cut my tape on it. I rolled over toward the metal object – and bashed my head on something large and nearby. Goddammit! Where was I? In someone's junkyard?

I twisted around and felt for the big thing with my fingertips. Even though my fingers were quite numb, I was pretty sure I could feel tyre tread. And if that was a tyre, maybe I was in the boot of a car...

Desperately I tried to wriggle free again. You only got put in the boot for bad reasons! And I didn't want to stick around for any of those!

Just then the vibrations changed and I could hear tyres crunching on gravel somewhere in the distance. The terrain must also be real bad as I was getting thrown around like a pea in a referee's whistle. I must have hit my head on something as I got all woozy for a moment and then, the next thing you know I could feel fresh air on my face...

I tell you, it was the best air I've ever breathed in my whole life and I just lay there for a while sucking in the sweet clean-smelling oxygen in through my nostrils and not thinking about anything else.

Then slowly I began to focus my eyes and I saw that I was actually lying still taped-up on a plastic coated table in what looked like some sort of fast food takeaway joint. It must have been new because it was still unfilthy from lack of use as yet. Plus, there were still a lot of boxes of stuff stacked up around the place like they'd just been dumped there from a move. Most of them weren't opened yet and were still taped up with some real familiar-looking black gaffer tape. And if I wasn't already feeling crook from the carbon monoxide fumes from my ride, the hot pink and lime green paintwork on the walls would have got me there anyway.

As I groaned, I heard a door open and two large shapes came in. Not that I was in any great shape to exercise my well-honed detective skills, but I was pretty sure they looked real similar to the ones that threw the fist shaped object at me.

'Ohh, look! Sleeping Beauty has woken up already! Looks like you won't get to kiss her after all, Fred!'

That voice! I'd know it anywhere! In fact, you couldn't turn on a TV or drive past a billboard in Glenvale without seeing Charles Ronald Smith's ugly mug leering out at you. "Smithy" was about as well-known as you get in Glenvale, the current captain of the local pro Glenvale Devils football team he'd now branched out into TV shows which had proved so popular that they just kept giving him more. He'd also started opening a variety of businesses around town that all traded shamelessly on his name, and therefore fame. Not many of them had proved as successful as his TV shows though, but he hadn't had much luck. The SingalongaSmith karaoke bars might have done much better if he'd had an alcohol licence and his BlackSmith fashion stores that only sold black clothing could have gone down real well – if red hadn't suddenly become the new black. And, of course, his McSmithy's Burgers had never even got to open its doors.

Glancing up at that ultra-familiar cleancut sporty face grinning at me with a sign on the pink and green wall that said "Smithy SoupaStar" behind him and I knew that I was on the premises of yet another of Smithy's crazy business scams. And I also knew that his enormous ego was finally getting the better of him.

'You're just in time to try my first creation, fruitcake,' Smithy said tearing back the piece of tape from my mouth so he could put a large bowl of slop to my lips and before I could react he was pouring a meaty soup into my open gob.

As the sludge reached my tastebuds I retched. It was disgusting! It tasted like chicken bones mixed with mutton fat and I twisted my mummified body away from Smithy so I could spit it out onto the floor.

'What's the matter?' Smithy was staring at me with an angry expression on his face, 'don't you like it?'

'Are ya trying to poison me?' I gasped between gags. I could still taste the fat between my teeth, 'jeez! that was rank!'

Smithy's mate, who I now recognised as his teammate Fred Villasau, was laughing like he'd been winded, gasping for air. Fred may not actually be the biggest man ever in the history of the Earth but he'd sure make the Top Twenty. Whenever he stood in between you and the sun not only did it get pretty dark, but cold winds started up around you too. I'd known Fred before as he'd been a bouncer at bars around town before he got the nod from the Devils management. He must have liked me as he never thumped me though I was usually the one causing most of the trouble in his bars.

Probably this was because he knew I had a soft spot for the ladies. Fred did too, although his was more a hard spot for fellas who raised their hand to a woman. Anyone who was dumb enough to mistreat a chick in a bar while Fred was on the door soon found himself defending his actions in a dark alleyway away from prying eyes. And, it was fair to say, that Fred didn't lose many arguments back there.

Meanwhile, Smithy wasn't looking too happy with my reaction to his soup. 'Yeah, yeah, yeah! Everyone's a fucking critic!' he snarled at me before turning to his companion, 'and you can shut up too!' he snapped at Fred which only made him laugh harder.

'So much for the Meatlovers!' Fred gasped, with tears in his eyes, 'you should try the Italiano – he puts salami in it!'

I stared at Smithy, still shuddering in disgust. 'You're kidding aren't ya? Salami? In soup?'

My captor looked really pissed off now. 'Look, just shuddup the both of you!' he shouted slamming the bowl down on a bench top and glaring at us. This was the first time I'd ever seen Smithy up close in real life. He was a pretty big guy although his body was obviously packing in on him as he spent most of every season off nowadays either injured – or suspended from injuring someone else's fit body through spite.

Which meant that Smithy was starting to chub up a bit from a lack of regular extreme violence on the footy field and too many new business launch parties. Even so, he still looked plenty fit enough to give me a pretty hard time of it if he wanted to. Especially seeing as I was still strapped up in a papoose of black gaffer tape.

And why? Why had they done to all this trouble to bring me here against my will and now they were just stuffing about like it was a rainy Sunday afternoon in the apartment? Were they waiting around for someone else to show up?

'What d'you fellas want from me?'

'Oh, here we go! "What d'you fellas want from me?"' Smithy parroted my question in a high-pitched piss-taking voice. 'We want whatever we want,' he sneered now in a pretty nasty tone, 'and you just have to go along with it don't you? Because that's one of the up sides of being a kidnapper, ain't it?'

He did have a point there so I just kept my gob slammed and glowered back at him instead. I probably shouldn't have spat out his bloody soup as I don't think it had got our relationship off to a good start. Smithy was obviously still rarked up as he picked his bowl back up from the bench and sniffed it.

'I dunno what you're talking about anyway. There's nothing wrong with it!' he declared giving me another dirty look, 'it's just like my Nana used to make.'

'Didn't she get burnt at the stake though?' Fred asked in all innocence from where he leant up against the wall.

'Oh ha ha, go on laugh it up, fruitcake!' Smithy grumbled, 'you'll be laughing on the other side of your face when the roaring crowd charges the turnstiles all over town!'

'Keep dreaming, Smith. And good things are bound to happen.' Fred said this in a little wee voice like he was a magic fairy charging up Smithy's hopes. But his sneer betrayed that he thought otherwise. That he was figuring this would go the same way as the SingalongaSmiths and all the others.

To be honest, I thought he was being a bit harsh. You can't blame a man for trying, even if he was only looking to create a front for his nefarious deeds. But there did seem to be a couple of flaws in Smithy's business plan that even I could spot lying there on the sandy beach.

'Are the people gonna keep coming though?'

'Huh?' Smithy turned to me looking confused, 'what are ya talking about? Why wouldn't they want to keep coming to my kitchens?' he spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders up high, 'I'm Smithy!'

I nodded as there was no denying that fact. Everybody loved Smithy. 'Yeah, but what's gonna happen in summer?'

Smithy stopped shrugging and squinted at me. 'What about summer?' he asked.

But I didn't get a chance to answer him as we were interrupted by the shop door slamming open and a large-gutted man in a salesman suit with a big grin came swanning in. And, it may have been my imagination, but I thought I saw both Smithy and Fred take a step backwards as he did.

'Ah, Detective Mullett!' Manny said as he breezed into the room, 'I'm so glad you could join us.'

Ho, ho. So they were waiting for someone. And I should have known it would be him; Manuel Olivier. The big player's agent. Like Smithy, I'd never seen him in the flesh before as he was a bit of a backroom boy. But I had spotted him occasionally on the box giving the odd soundbite, usually whining on about how his players were being ripped off by being offered these contracts worth just the one king's ransom.

I'd also heard that he wasn't liked much around town but you'd do quite nicely not to cross him as he was definitely a man on the rise. A former player himself, Manny had switched to agenting and done real well. And over the past couple of years, he'd managed to sign up all the key Devils players, which meant that now he pretty much controlled the franchise financially.

But his super big hit had been putting Smithy on TV. The dumbass' slapstick shows had gone off so amazingly well that it had given Manny a big bunch of advertising revenue he could use as a big stick to get what he wanted with the rest of media. Since then, everyone wanted to be his mate, and if anyone didn't, then they better watch out. I remember hearing Manny's name being whispered over that investigative journo Marty Colenso's sudden suicide a while back. Glenvale East had even brought a case to the table but our crap useless prosecutors couldn't make a Post-it stick.

'You want some soup?' Smithy asked his agent as he walked over.

Manny was quick to shake his head. 'No thanks, Smithy. I've only just had brunch, and hard to believe that it may be...' he jiggled his massive gut with both hands, 'but this belly is full.'

'Okay then, how 'bout you, Jonny?' Smithy turned with a smirk to ask a small sinister-looking Asian guy who'd followed Manny in and was lurking around in his shadow, 'you want some?'

The fella he spoke to didn't look up and shook his head real quick like he wasn't really that keen on being the centre of attention. He didn't look much like a "Jonny" neither, unless that name had suddenly become real common in the cargo holds of rusty old fishing vessels that sneak around at night in the South China Sea. This "Jonny" wasn't big on looking anyone in the eye neither and just kept his own ones fixed on the floor while he fiddled around with a real nasty looking knife that looked like the sort you did some pretty irreversible things to a fish with. I didn't like the look of this character at all and figured that the sooner I got out of my gaffer tape the better while he was around.

Manny must have seen me glancing at my tape as he nodded to Fred who came over and started ripping it off for me. I'd like to say I took it stolidly like a real man, but I'd be telling a filthy lie if I did. Jeez, it hurt! It felt like Fred was ripping my flesh off along with the tape. The big fella stopped after a while as I think he was starting to go deaf from my screams, but at least I could move my hands and legs a bit although every square inch of my skin felt like it was on fire.

Once the echoes of my agony had quit bouncing around the Smithy SoupaStar premises, Manny spoke again. 'Hmm, please excuse the incessant use of violence,' he said with a chuckle as he parked his bulk on one of Smithy's stools near me, 'it's not really my modus operendi, but the boys like it.' He leaned closer to whisper behind his hand to me, 'it seems that training ground habits are hard to shake!' Out of the corner of my eye I saw Fred and Smithy roll their eyes at each other at this comment.

Noting this I said; 'Think nothing of it, fella,' to Manny and patted my aching and swollen jaw as though Smithy had only splashed aftershave on it back at my apartment, 'I've forgotten about it already.'

Manny beamed back at me. 'Ah, now you're a good sport!' he said putting his briefcase down beside his stool then leaning forward to tap a finger on Smithy's benchtop. 'Now, you're probably wondering why I've invited you here?'

'It had crossed my mind.'

The player agent winked back at me. 'I thought so!' he waved to include Smithy, Fred and Jonny, 'now we've heard all about you and your... activities in recent times. So we thought it was about time that we met this famous Detective Mullett up close and personal.'

'Yeah?' I glanced about nervously at the others but they were just looking on without giving much away.

'That's right,' Manny went on, 'because the things you've been doing recently have been having a considerable impact on the businesses of everyone in this room...' Here he looked down at the counter as though he was deciding what to say next. He looked up suddenly and met my eye. 'Now, as I suspect you're well aware, all of us here are involved in a trade which gets some pretty biased coverage in the news media. In fact, it's almost as one-sided as the reporting on some of Smithy's on-field indiscretions!'

I didn't know what he was talking about – and wasn't really sure that I wanted to know what they'd been up to going by the presence of this "Jonny" character and remembering old Marty Colenso's hurried check-out. But, I was also pretty sure that they weren't interested in consulting me here.

'Ha!' Smithy snorted in the background shaking his head in disbelief, 'it's one-sided all right! Did you see what that Thompson prick wrote – '

Manny held up a hand without looking at him. 'Not just now, Smithy. We'll talk about that later.'

Smithy fell quiet but muttered on in the background. 'What's the guy's problem? He can't say that about me. I'm Smithy!'

Manny ignored him and focussed in on me. 'Now, Detective, screw the media. I think it's time you heard our side of the story. You see, the harsh reality in life is that professional sport is all about entertainment. And it's no different here in Glenvale. People pay money to come and see the Devils smash over their opponents on the football field. And the bigger the smashes, the more people like it.'

The sports agent reached over and grabbed a sports drink out of Smithy's fridge and took a few sips before continuing. 'Now, does anyone seriously believe that professional athletes such as Fred here can develop such impressive muscles just from lifting weights up and down a few times? Of course they don't. It's ridiculous to even suggest that anyone could possibly be that naïve.

'No, everyone is fully aware that our mighty sportsmen and women are on a solid diet of performance enhancing drugs and the truth is; no one really gives a shit. All this drug use is tolerated so that we can keep watching all that meat getting minced on the footy field.'

Manny's cellphone chose this moment to start to ring on the counter. He glanced at it while he talked. 'So where do these drugs come from? Well, that's where we come in. You see, Detective, we just got sick of paying someone else to supply our drugs. We thought, "hey, let's cut out the middle man" and started sourcing our own supply.'

Jeez! I didn't know that! Now I was really starting to sweat in my gruts. The way I saw it, there were two ways he could go with telling me all this; and that was that they either wanted to sign me up, or to chop me up. And I wasn't too keen on either option to be honest.

Meanwhile the agent was keeping himself busy answering his phone and sighing. 'Sorry, but I'd better take this,' he said to me with a shrug, 'I'll be as quick as I can.' He walked off out of the room booming out a jolly greeting to someone on the other end of the line and shut the door tightly after him.

I wasn't sure what the rest of us were supposed to do while he was gone but Smithy had obviously been thinking about what I'd said earlier.

'What were you saying before about summer?' he asked from over beside the taped up boxes.

'Huh?' it took me a moment to stop thinking about Jonny's knife and realise what my captor was talking about, 'uh, well, no one wants to eat soup in summer, it's too hot.'

'Ah, bullshit! What would you know? Are you some sort of soup expert?' Smithy snapped back but I could also see that he looked troubled at this.

'No,' I said, 'but I thought you might be if you were opening this place.'

'So you'd think!' Fred said then suddenly burst into hysterical laughter again.

Smithy looked so mad I thought he was going to attack his huge mate, which wasn't such a good idea – even if he was "Smithy".

I figured I could do worse than try and cheer him up a bit. 'You could make juice though.'

In reply Smithy stepped over towards me so fast I forgot to breathe. 'What?' he snarled down at me, 'what did you just say to me?'

'Juice!' I blurted out, 'people would wanna drink that in summer!'

Smithy stopped looking angry and started looking thoughtful instead. 'You reckon?'

'Yeah, man,' I said nodding, 'you could even use the same blenders to mash up the fruit. Though you might want to wash them first!'

'The same blenders?' Smithy wandered over to a group of half a dozen blenders all lined up on a shelf, 'that's these things eh?'

I nodded.

The soup kitchen owner grinned. 'Yeah, that's not a bad idea!' he said brightly then looked at me with a wink, 'thanks, man.'

At that moment, the door opened again and Manny came back in with the cellphone still at his ear. 'Yeah, yeah, consider it done...' he said into it and rolled his eyes at us, 'righto, I'll call you later.' He snapped shut his phone and looked around at everyone. 'Now, where was I?'

'You'd just cut out the middle man,' Smithy said with a quick glance at Fred, 'which isn't such a bad idea really.' Then he picked up one of his blenders and started looking at it from all angles, 'does anyone know how to work one of these?'

Manny poked the air with a finger. 'Ah, that's right! Cutting out the middle man. And most successful it's been too,' he said to me taking a seat back on his stool at the counter and swigging from his drink thoughtfully. 'But, the truth is, Detective, it's become time to move on. There's no future in steroids any more, the market's become saturated. You can even get the damn things from a Star Mart now! And, so naturally now we've got into new markets outside of sport. Delivering our new enhancements to elite performance athletes in the fields of freeform dance, casual sex and feeling good.'

'Sounds like you eh, Fred?' Smithy chuckled in the background.

For a moment, an angry look at the interruption flashed across Manny's face then it passed and he gave me a wink and sipped his drink. 'And why not? If you can see an opportunity in the market, why not seize the initiative – ?'

Everyone suddenly turned around at the sound of steel blades spinning furiously. It was Smithy. He'd turned on one of his blenders, and was pouring orange juice into it which was then being sprayed out again all over the place.

'Smithy!' Manny barked at him over the racket, 'can't you see we're working here?'

The football superstar glared back him and shrugged. 'Sure,' he said switching off the blender and all of a sudden it seemed real quiet in the room, 'I wouldn't wanna get in the way of my percentage in action.'

Manny looked at him real quietly for a moment then turned back to me. 'Look, Detective, all I'm saying is that we need is a good stable market in which to operate. One where confidence is high and where investment is safe,' he paused to give me another wink, 'but, then you came along...'

Smithy stopped playing with his blender at this and both he and Fred leaned forward a bit. It looked like we were getting to the sharp end of things here and I started to feel a bit sweaty under my tape.

'And when you started pushing around Shorty, Rex and your brother, you sent a message to the market. A bad message. One that has caused uncertainty – '

What did I just hear him say? To hell with this spiel, I butted in with a question.

'Hang on a minute, fella. Did you just say "my brother"?'

Manny looked at me for a moment then turned to Jonny. 'Brian. Bring him.'

Jonny slipped out and after a minute came back in bringing my brother after him. I gaped at him while he sneered back at me in reply.

'Jeez, Bri! What the hell are you doing dealing drugs?' I shouted out.

'More to the point, what are you doing interfering?' he replied from across the room.

I shook the dust out of my flowing locks. 'Oh man, Ma's gonna be gutted when she finds out you've been running with these scumbags!'

That probably wasn't the brightest thing I've said for a year and I immediately wished that I actually was the better, smarter person that people had always said I should try to be.

Brian shook his head in disbelief and chuckled. 'Oh ho, ho! Know your audience, man!'

I sheepishly looked back at Manny expecting rage but he was just grinning at me. 'Ah, come on now, Detective! You can't fool me! Years and years have gone by and you've done nothing at all. And yet, now you've suddenly started interviewing a slew of our colleagues in the Glenvale drug industry. Tell me, why is that?'

'Uhh, my orders were to make a "colourful arrest" in the, er, drug market...' I muttered back nervously.

He nodded. 'Ha! I thought as much. And yet, despite this specific instruction from your superior officer, what is it that you do?' he asked.

'Well, I – '

'You go and talk to your brother, that's what you do,' Manny answered his own question for himself, 'you also talk to a small time dealer who runs a bar.' He looked around him, his voice rising, 'an ex-wrestler who is a real favourite with the public! And best of all...' Manny said breaking into a chuckle, 'you go and talk to the president of the Legalise Cannabis Society! Isn't that what you did, Detective Duane Mullett?'

I flinched expecting the worst. But no one was raising any fists. In fact, they even looked happy about it. All except Brian that is, who was just shaking his head at me as though disgusted.

'You went around hitting nerves in our industry, didn't you, Detective?' Manny went on with a smile on his face. 'You were warning without interfering. Sending a clear signal to the market that the police were hiding in the reeds. And you did it by threatening people you knew you couldn't – or wouldn't – arrest...' Here Manny leaned forward over the counter and patted my hand. 'Which was very considerate of you. Because, as businessmen, we appreciate such discretion.'

At this point Manny, Smithy and Fred all put aside their differences and started to applaud together, Smithy even whooped. Brian wasn't too impressed though.

'Hey! Hey! What are you doing?' he shouted at them, 'you're wrong, wrong, wrong! Duane's incapable of doing anything like that! He's as thick as three short planks!'

Everyone stopped cheering and stared open-mouthed at him.

'You don't believe me? Okay, I'll show you,' Brian said and turned back to me, 'Duane, what the hell do you think happened out there when you did all those things Manny was talking about? Huh?'

I wasn't sure what he was getting at. I'd do quite nicely to play dumb here I thought.

'I dunno.'

'You dunno?' Brian mimicked me with an extra helping of nastiness in his voice, 'but I thought you were s'posed to be the genius in this room? Okay, I'd better help you out on this. First of all, people get to hear that you, a cop, are going around talking to known drug felons. What do you think people are gonna make of that?'

'I dunno, that us cops are getting tough on drugs?'

'Yeah... and that means what?'

I just shrugged at him and grinned. I didn't want to play this game. If he wanted to be a cock, he'd have to jerk himself off. I wasn't going to do it for him.

'It means that everyone gets nervous, that's what,' Brian said, 'and when people get nervous they start to call in their debts. And in our case, that means that the dealers stop dealing – '

'But that's a good thing isn't it?' I couldn't help myself, I was getting interested in what he was saying, 'for you guys I mean. Coz it means that prices go up doesn't it?' I looked around at Smithy and the others who were all watching me with smiles on their faces except Jonny who looked at the floor, 'due to shortage of supply?'

Smithy nodded and gave me the thumbs up. Fred was all smiles too. I turned back to Brian triumphant.

'Over the short term, maybe!' my brother snapped irritably, 'but we're not fly-by-nighters! We're in this for the long haul. And seeing as you like higher prices, Duane, tell me where you think the users are going to find the cash to meet their funding shortfall? Hmm?'

'I dunno...'

'Duh! Come on! Think!' Brian turned to the rest of the room, 'you see? He was always the dumb one! He couldn't tie his shoelaces until he was 14. I had to tie them for him! And yet I was the one Ma sent to cabbage class!'

'Hey!' Fred growled, 'don't talk to him like that. He's your brother, man!'

But the break had given me a chance to think. 'Ah, the dopers'd probably get more money from crime,' I admitted a little sheepishly.

Brian scowled at Fred then turned back to beam at me. 'Bingo! You are a genius after all. Users service their debts through crime. In general, they don't have a steady cashflow so they resort to crime to top up their cash reserves. So, do you see now how short-sighted your bloody boss' drug policy is? By chasing dealers he is actually actively promoting crime.'

My little brother took a moment to stretch the tension out of his shoulders and neck before laying into me again. 'Now, let's go back to the higher prices. Ask yourself, Duane what is the point of higher prices if there's no turnover? Are you expanding your market? No. Are you growing it? Again, no. And what about production? Just because the product isn't being sold doesn't mean it goes away. No, the dealers aren't going to throw anything away are they? Then, when you morons down at the copshop have finished screwing around giving us a hard time, and we go back to being normal – but we can't! Do you know why?' Brian was shouting now, 'because all our product has stockpiled during the Duane Ages. And that means we've developed a glut which has to go in a whole series of cut throat fire sales that totally demolish all our carefully compiled retailing structure! Everything we've built on trust over years and years goes down the bloody toilet as everyone runs around with their heads chopped off chasing the bargain basement price!'

Brian finished screaming at me and fell silent, staring down at the floor. I felt a bit of pressure to sum up his speech to show that I'd understood it. 'So... I guess you're afraid that I could be causing some kind of a Wall Street Crash in your industry?'

Brian didn't answer or look up from the floor. He did give me a sarky golf clap though.

Manny broke in with a cold-sounding chuckle. 'Brian, please! You know I don't like that phrase. I thought we agreed to always use the term "market correction"?'

Brian didn't look up. 'I didn't say it, Allan Greenspan here did.'

The agent shrugged and took another sip from his sports drink. 'So, Detective, it's like your brother said, we don't like a market out of control. Therefore we need to act quickly to restore confidence out there – '

'Then we should be acting – not wasting time with this idiot!' Brian muttered.

Manny had finally had enough of the interruptions. He half turned to speak at Brian. 'Hey, why don't you go and get your big brother a sports drink?'

'What? You're kidding right?'

'You want me to repeat myself?'

'There's a whole heap of them right there!' he snarled pointing at the fridge that Fred was leaning on.

Brian wasn't taking the hint so Smithy stepped up and grabbed him by the arm. 'Sports drinks are this way, fruitcake,' he said and with effortless ease Smithy half shoved, half threw Brian out through the door and into the dark corridor outside. Smithy followed him out and closed the door slowly but firmly after him.

Despite the serve that Brian had just dished up for me, he was still my brother so I looked worriedly at Manny who shrugged. 'Hey relax! Smithy'll just brush the dandruff off his jacket to remind him who he works for.'

He lit another cigarette and breathed smoke out his nostrils. 'Now, we understand your position, Detective. Just like us, you need to have the occasional win under your belt to keep the press off your back and plenty of zeros on the contract. And, just as we're prepared to sacrifice a coach for a string of defeats, we're prepared to sacrifice someone in order that everyone can stay a winner here – '

His cellphone started to ring again but he ignored it this time and nodded to Fred instead. Fred went across and went out the other door of the soup kitchen. 'So, if you'll forgive me, Detective, I've taken the liberty of doing some police work for you...'

Fred came back in dragging a small man in an upright chair who was so completely trussed up with black gaffer tape that you could only see his eyes. And those eyes more than made up for any lack of movement in the arms or legs by darting this way and that, shooting their poisonous darts at everybody in the room.

'...and decided that Simon Julian Heppentine, also known as Shorty, is guilty of dealing drugs.'

Jeez! So Shorty had been dealing drugs after all! The little lying prick!

'Say hello, Simon.' Manny said and Fred bent down to tear a piece of tape off from over Shorty's mouth.

'You fucking turncoat traitor cunts!' Shorty screamed once his mouth was free.

Manny shook his head in disgust and waved impatiently at Fred. 'Hit him!'

Fred grinned as he drew his fist back. Swinging his huge arm through the air so fast the vibrations hurt my ears, the footy star threw a massive punch into the side of Shorty's jaw. The sound of it connecting was like hearing a two ton Hereford bull disintegrating when a speeding 18 wheel Mack truck smacks into it on the highway. Shorty and his chair then flew backwards about ten feet and slid along the floor until he hit the wall and came to a sudden stop in an untidy pile of ropes and limp limbs. Needless to say, Shorty became real quiet, his eyes rolling and tongue lolling, KOed. Considering the force of Fred's blow, it was amazing that the little man's head was still attached to his shoulders.

I shuddered and felt the end of my jaw, which was still tender to the touch. I knew what that felt like!

Manny glanced back at me. 'Now, I don't want you to get the wrong idea,' he chuckled as I put my hand down again, 'we aren't normally in the habit of ratting out our business associates. But extraordinary circumstances demand extraordinary actions.' He looked back down at the unconscious Shorty and grimaced, 'and besides, this prick's had it coming for a long time!'

The sports agent then glanced at his watch. 'Shit. Will you just look at the time! Fred, can you get this cop and his baggage back into town? I've got a meeting in ten minutes.'

But Fred was a step ahead of him and had a gaffer roll already in his hands. As I looked at the big fella grinning at me over a strip of the super sticky and ultra strong tape, I couldn't help but feel a wee bit jealous of his job satisfaction.

~~~~

A PRESENT FOR FRIEDA

The trip back was a lot shorter than the one going out and as I lay in the boot next to Shorty, both of us mummified in gaffer tape, I thought about what I should do with the little drug dealer. Even though he fitted the boss' criteria well enough by being high-ish up in the drug world, well known and colourful, I wondered if I was just being a bag carrier for Manny by handing him in. And maybe I ought to give his boots a quick polish while I was at it.

Then again, if we cops – and Shorty himself – hadn't gone out with our brass band and made such a fuss about trying to snaffle a druggie then Manny wouldn't have given us him. Shorty would still be out there running around peddling drugs and pissing everyone off without a care in the world.

Maybe this was how it worked out there in the real world, where all the deals were worked out in the backrooms beforehand then there was a big parade afterwards for everyone else to come along and watch the clowns dance around.

Yeah, that's how it all worked and I just hadn't taken any notice before because I'd been keeping myself busy shagging away. If the boss and Manny wanted to play this game then I could too. I'd deliver Shorty to Frieda, give her a wink, then wander off to the pub with a cheery whistle. And, as long as I didn't break my stride, no one would be any the wiser what I'd been up to. It was foolproof!

After a bit, our captor pulled up to a stop and opened up the trunk to let some of the carbon monoxide out.

'Okay boys,' Fred smirked, 'joyride's over.'

With that, he picked us both up by the scruff of our necks and threw us over onto a green lawn headfirst.

Once the stars had disappeared from in front of my eyes I saw that Fred had gone and a group of concerned citizens were standing around looking at us on what, I now realised was the lawn outside Glenvale Central police station.

Just as some fellas had started to pick away at our tape a familiar voice came into earshot. 'Hey, hey!' it shrieked, 'leave that! It's probably for us anyway.'

It was Trish, the chubby lady of about fifty odd who normally lurked away in the dark shadows of our records department. She now came into view, this time in broad daylight, clutching a couple of cups of takeaway coffee in her talons. I tried to call out to her but only succeeded in making 'Huuuuhh, huuuuhhh!' noises. She eyed me up close then turned my almost completely gaffer taped head one way then the other like a Predator inspecting a human skull shape, while everyone else stood by and watched.

'Hmm!' she muttered like she was some sort of archeological expert, 'I think this might be one of ours...' then with a quick tug she ripped off a piece of tape that took my eyebrows and most of my eyelashes with it.

'Hnnnnn! Hnnnn!'

'Oh, it's Duane!' she exclaimed and gave me a big smile, 'hello dear! What've you been up to?'

'Hnnnnn! Hnnnn!'

'Oops! Silly me! You still can't talk can you?' she chortled and a few of the onlookers laughed as well. I was real happy to be so entertaining for everyone.

'Gah! Goo! Uhhh!' off went the piece of tape over my mouth and off went my lips, tongue and half of my teeth with it. At least, that's what it felt like. At the barest minimum, I'd never need to shave again.

'Does that feel better?' Trish was asking me and I glared at her.

'Just peachy!' I snarled, 'now, undo my hands please, so I can do the rest myself while I still have some bodyparts left!'

But it was just wishful thinking as she and some of the others had to help me as I was as weak as a kitten after my ordeal. But, with them helping, it didn't take too long for me to be completely free of tape and, once I'd stopped screaming, me and Trish dragged the still taped-up Shorty off into the copshop with us.

'Bye bye!' Trish waved to the assembled crowd still chuckling to themselves outside, 'and thanks for all your help!'

I gave them all the finger then shoved the president of the Legalise Cannibis Society roughly over towards where Frieda sat staring at us in her office.

But Trish beat me to the draw. 'Look what I found in the gutter!' she said as she handed Frieda a takeaway coffee.

Frieda smiled back. 'You brought back coffee – and boys! Oh, well done. I have trained you well,' she eyed both me and the gagged and glowering Shorty before turning back to Trish. 'Next time try to be a little more selective and throw back the ones that are no good.'

Trish cackled away like this was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. 'Oh, someone'd already done that, dear! But they missed the rubbish bin, so I was just tidying up the litter!'

'Yeah, thanks for all your help, Trish!' I said glaring at her, 'but I'm sure I can see a stack of files as tall as the Tower of Babel back in your office, maybe you oughta go see to 'em?'

'Grumpy bugger ain't ya?' the records clerk gave me a sour look, 'maybe I should've left you there for the seagulls to peck over. Only I wouldn't like to see 'em get crook guts from copping a beakful of your bitter hide!'

With that, she waddled off muttering to herself leaving me alone with the foxy, but smirking, Frieda. I had some dignity to rescue here, and fast. I leant up against the workload distribution manager's desk and jabbed Shorty with the toe of my boot. 'Here's a present for ya,' I said yawning and stretching as though I made a major arrest every day. But really I was just trying to get a bit of blood back into my cramped muscles, 'I'm sorry but the ribbon must have got knocked off in transit.'

'Do you know who that is?' Frieda asked looking me straight in the eye.

'Yeah, 'course I do,' I said, 'it's the infamous Shorty and I just busted his sorry arse.'

'So it appears...' she said getting up from behind her desk to look at my prisoner, and also to show me how hot her body was, 'but I just want to know why they gave him to you.'

Now, even though she was talking to me in her normal humouring a simpleton voice, she couldn't disguise the true amazement she was feeling that I'd managed to bring a serious drug hood in from under a very large rock. And, as stuff like that mattered to Frieda, I could sense that a pretty major wind change could be about to happen in the fortunes of one Detective Duane Mullett if I played my cards right. In fact, as I listened, a faint breeze seemed to pick up right here in her office and on it was carried the slight sound of a small metallic bracelet jangling.

'Oh, you know how it is, babe,' I said, 'I can't divulge all me trade secrets or else everyone'll be a legendary Slayer of Evil like the Black Hawk!'

Frieda just grunted at this. 'Yeah, okay,' she said, 'well, off you go and interrogate him then and see what you can find out.' With that, she wandered off taking the sound of her anklet jangling with her.

~~~~

THE QUEST FOR TRUTH

Now our Interrogation Room is like most others in that it's basically a goldfish bowl of one way mirrors, behind which sit cop brass like the boss and Frieda – and also loser hanger-ons like Burger and his numbskull mate, Rice. So, as you can imagine, my interviewing technique would be on display as well as whatever gems my surly prisoner could come up with. And, while the standard interview technique we use in Glenvale is not exactly complex, I still needed to school up on it a bit. Because, as I've said before, we didn't use it much as we didn't bust people too often. Here's how it normally goes:

A TYPICAL GLENVALE POLICE INTERROGATION TRANSCRIPT

ME: 'You did it didn't ya!'

CRIM: 'Nah I didn't!'

ME: 'You bloody did so!'

CRIM: 'No way!'

ME: 'Lying bastard!'

CRIM: 'I'm not!'

ME: 'You're such a bullshit artist!'

CRIM: 'I'm fucking not okay!'

Then we punch them a few times and they usually confess so guilt is conclusively proved and we all go home. Except for the crim of course, who heads off to jail.

Now to help me in my holy quest for truth, Frieda had got Burger and Rice to make themselves useful for once by peeling Shorty free of all his tape and setting him up in the.room ready for me to work my magic. I caught up with them in the corridor outside just as they came out peeling used gaffer tape glue off their fingertips.

'Hey boys!' I grinned at them, 'are ya sticking around for the show?'

'Wouldn't miss it for the world,' Burger sniggered, 'it'll be a laugh watching you work on someone other than Frieda for a change.'

'Yeah!' guffawed Rice like the hyena he was, 'and maybe you'll have better luck this time!'

'I can assure you that luck has nothing to do with it, lads,' I said fixing them one at a time with a stare, 'what you're about to witness here today is nothing but pure skill.'

'Puer-ile, don't you mean,' Burger snorted back but I could see he was boiling up with jealousy inside at all the attention I was getting.

'Now, now, Carl,' I said giving him a wink, 'you should be jotting all this down in your trainee's notebook as conclusive proof that results can happen. Once you get out of the office and get busy out there in the field that is...'

Burger opened his mouth to retort but I cut him off at the pass. 'Now, if you'll both excuse me, gentlemen, I have a confession to extract. Watch and learn boys. Watch and learn.' With that I slipped through the door and came face to face with Shorty who sat there in a hardback chair behind a plain table glaring at me.

I decided to try shocking him with a direct approach. 'You've been selling drugs after all, haven't ya, Shortstuff?'

Shorty didn't alter his expression one little bit. 'Yeah. I have.'

Huh? That took me a bit by surprise. What did it mean? Was he trying to double bluff me? There was only one way to find out. I walked over to the table and put both my hands on it in front of him. Then I leant in to stare into his face. 'Don't fucking deny it, ya slimy bag of dogshit!'

The dealer was less than terrified. 'I ain't denying nothing,' he said scowling, 'so let's not waste any fucking time arguing about it. It's like I said, I'm guilty as charged.'

'Yeah? But what about your GP letter and your protest in Civic Square and everything?'

'What about them?' Shorty snarled back at me from under his greasy mop of hair, 'look, numbnuts, if Manny says I'm fucking guilty of drugs, then I'm fucking guilty either way aren't I?'

Jeez! Manny really must be a ruthless bastard. This little prick was scared shitless of him. So scared he was even turning his back on a life of denial.

'And I don't wanna fucking wake up with me throat cut now do I?' Shorty went on in a miserable voice, 'so, that means I'll just have to take my medicine... for now...' his eyes flashed and I could see he was thinking of dark things, '...and get my payback later...'

Then Shorty stayed quiet for a while staring straight ahead with his face and hands twitching. I guessed he was imagining himself getting his payback and, from the look of him, I didn't think he would be happy with just an apology.

His confessing so quickly had also thrown me a little. I wasn't sure of the right protocol for this situation. Should I congratulate him for rolling over so fast? Or should I abuse him for being such a softcock? Or then again, should I just sneak out and give him a couple of minutes to mull over how his shower time was about to change drastically for the next few years? I didn't know. It would have been so much easier to just push him down the stairs a couple of times! It might've impressed my audience more too, I thought with a wince and a sidelong glance at the mirrors.

Shorty must have sensed me dithering because he turned to me and threw up his hands. 'Hey, what are you waiting for? Show me to my quarters, Fuckface. The footy's on in twenny minutes!'

~~~~

TAKING THE PISS

Once I came out of the Interrogation Room I was confronted with a reduced reception committee of just the boss and Frieda. Everyone else had gone. I felt a little uneasy at this, and even more so to see that Frieda wasn't exactly laughing her head off neither.

'Very good work,' the boss said smiling at me, 'very good indeed. I don't know how you managed to do that,' here he glanced between both Frieda and me, 'but, maybe I don't need to know.'

'I agree, it's probably for the best, sir,' said Frieda in a tight voice as though she'd rather be saying something else.

The boss turned back to me and from glancing at his face I could sense something bad was going to happen. He was looking thoughtful... 'Look,' he said, 'is there any chance we can get this Olivier character too?' He was asking this like he just wanted me to grab him a pack of smokes from the gas station while I was there.

Oh man! Oh man! You don't know what you're saying, you goddamn desk jockey! Please John Bonham, let him be hit in the head in a freak flying anvil accident right now to knock some sense into him! I thought about how scared Shorty had looked just now and felt real uneasy about this request. To say the least!

'There's none whatsoever, sir.'

The boss raised his eyebrows at me. 'Detective Mullett, I'm afraid that isn't an attitude that will expedite your career in the force.'

I nodded. He was right, there was probably an awful lot of truth in that fact. 'Yeah,' I agreed, 'but it's also an attitude that might keep me alive for a little while longer,' I added thinking I'd better return the favour with a solid fact of my own.

But the boss looked less than stoked with my knowledge. 'Duane, a prime directive of my sojourn here is to reduce crime in Glenvale. From what that felon said in there, it appears that Manuel Olivier is a major player. Therefore, bringing Mr. Olivier to justice would be a major step for me in achieving that goal.'

Again, there wasn't much I could argue with there neither. Manny would definitely be an awesome catch. But how much you'd enjoy reeling him in depended on which end of the fishing line you were on. So I figured that maybe my boss needed to hear this. 'Manny has a lot of majorly big mates, sir,' I said as calmly as I could manage, 'and they're likely to get pretty hacked off if I was to snap a pair of cuffs on him. But if you are absolutely busting to get him,' I added, not wanting to be a total misery guts, 'I'd suggest you train up a whole heap of crazy kamikaze cops and get them to charge at him wearing dynamite vests. Coz either way, whoever goes after him is gonna end up dead!'

I'd lost all calmness by this point and was getting dangerously close to shouting at my boss, which was probably not a good look. Luckily for me, I must have looked pretty frayed around the edges too because he eased back on the throttle at me.

'Look, I understand,' he said after giving me the once over, 'you're tired after your ordeal. Why don't you take the rest of the day off to recuperate and come and see me all fresh tomorrow morning?' He paused and waited, watching me expecting a response. But when I didn't say anything, he sort of sighed and turned to leave, 'oh, and, by the way, good work so far, Detective.'

I straightened up to give him a crisp salute. 'Fuck you, sir!'

The boss stopped and turned to stare back at me, shocked. 'I beg your pardon?'

'I said; "Thank you, sir".' I replied keeping my face as stonewall as possible. Then I turned and marched out of the room like I'd just been dismissed from my post in the Army. As I past Frieda I could have sworn that she was grinning at me.

*

Outside, in the Toyota on the street I almost wept at the injustice of it all. Here I was, the superstar cop who just brought in the highest ranked villain ever to soil a cell in dusty old Glenvale Central, and what did I get for it? A death sentence.

I felt like them pilot fellas in that Catch-22 movie who had to keep flying more missions after they'd done enough to clock off for one war. Why couldn't the boss just be happy with what I'd given him? It wasn't as if Shorty was going to disappear in the seething crowd down below decks. In fact, he'd probably be able to put in a claim for unwarranted solitary confinement due to our prison laundry washing so few pairs of arrow pyjamas.

Bosses, man! Give 'em an inch and they'll take the piss.

I had to find a way to get out of this suicide detail, but it was just too damn depressing to even think about yet. I needed some cheering up.

Hmmm... I was still in the dogbox with Rachelle so it wouldn't be any use seeking her out...

Maybe I should go and see if that Hippy Chick was on duty down at the market?

Actually, it wasn't such a bad idea. I had a bit of time to kill before I had to go pick up the Nancy Drew twins for the Battle of the Bands final and I surely couldn't have worse luck...

~~~~

IN THE MARKET FOR LOVE

Now some people, usually female, give me a hard time occasionally for seeing more than one chick at once. And while I've never been that crash hot at restricting myself totally to just the one gorgeous babe at a time – frankly, I think it's a crime against Nature to turn my back on a chick if she's gone to the trouble of looking hot – I'm often partially innocent.

This is because I do actually tend to go out with a lot of chicks, so therefore I'm always in a state of either getting together or breaking up with them. But, as these events often take different amounts of time to happen, an awful lot of overlapping takes place and so sometimes it may appear that I'm going out with several chicks at once.

The chicks themselves generally tend to take a dim view of this so, in order to keep the peace, I'm usually a little slack on producing updates on the to-ings and fro-ings in their presence. I wouldn't say that this is a foolproof system but it has got me through many busy years of chick-hunting with only the occasional kick to the nads to suffer in return.

So while I was sort of seeing Rachelle at the moment – well, in between her bouts of fierce anti-Duanism anyway! – I didn't see anything wrong with slipping down to the market to prepare myself a little insurance policy should our thing fall over permanently. (And besides, because this Hippie Chick was so completely different to all the chicks I'd ever been out with before, I wasn't really sure if she should count anyway!)

Therefore, my visit now ought to be applauded as a sensible investigation in preparing for my future. At least, that's what I'd be telling anybody who was bothered to ask...

Once I got down to the Riverside Market, I spotted quite a few people mooching around. Probably a few extras had slipped into town for the big gig to join the usual Saturday afternoon tyre kickers. I walked in breathing through my mouth to minimise the chance of catching lung cancer from all sandalwood incense smoke drifting across the battlefield and pushed on up towards the first floor.

Upstairs there were less people as per usual, due partly to the inherent laziness native to us Glenvalians and also because all the less popular stalls had been bunged up here out of the way by the crafty market owners. So, I only had to round the stairwell corner before I caught a solid glimpse through the sparse crowds of the Hippy Chick in all her golden-haired glory. And, even though there obviously wasn't a desperate city-wide shortage of painted lightbulbs this afternoon, there she was selflessly manning her station. With a smile locked and loaded as she scoped the crowd looking to brighten somebody's day. I hoped I'd done enough for that somebody to be me...

I quickly looked away from her and worked my round the hall towards her stall the longest way possible, pretending to be interested in third hand pewter candle holders, jellybean paintings, novelty T shirts and the like. After about ten minutes I found myself in front of a tray of painted lightbulbs and looked up to see the Hippy Chick smiling at me.

'Oh, hello!' I said in my best fake surprise.

'Hi,' the Hippy Chick smiled back, 'I saw you looking around. How are you feeling? That must have been a pretty freaky experience the other day.'

I nodded. 'Yeah, I guess it was...' I looked down a bit with a wry smile as though I'd hadn't really thought about it before, while really I was imaging how Kurt would put things, 'but I s'pose it's the type of experience that gets you thinking about, well, you know life, the universe and everything...' Which was kind of true, but I was also fishing a bit as I figured that hippies were into that sort of stuff. Anything to keep her talking.

'Sure,' she said, 'in some ways I think you're lucky... oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't say that. It was probably quite traumatic for you.'

'No, no. that's okay,' I said putting on a brave smile, 'the worst of it's over now...' I looked away suddenly as though I was hiding tears, 'it looks good in here now with that new paintjob,' I added in a voice thick with emotion.

'Would you like a cup of tea?'

Bingo! Kurt, you're a legend! I'd bought myself a bit of time. I turned back to look at her but waited for a moment as though I was thinking this over. 'Ah, yeah. okay. That would be, er, nice.'

'Come around this side,' she said flicking on an old and battered electric jug she had plugged in near her and indicating an empty stool on her side that she must bring along for visitors. I wasted no time in skirting the table and parking up on it.

'What would you like? I've got Rose Hip, Lemon Balm, Dahjeeling, Blackcurrant...'

As she spoke she pulled out all of these coloured tea boxes for me to look at and, I guess, choose from. I hadn't tried any of them before as, if I ever drank tea, it was usually only gumboot. So any selection I made here would be based only on colour preference.

'Oh, I dunno. What do you recommend?'

She giggled and picked out a purple box for me which had "Blackcurrant" written on every side. 'Here, smell that.'

I gave it a sniff. 'Oh, yeah! That's really good eh!'

'So should we go with that?'

I nodded. 'Yep. White and four thanks.'

The Hippy Chick looked embarrassed. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I don't have any milk or sugar. You see, we normally just drink the tea by itself. It's aromatic you see.'

Whoops. I'd dropped my daks there. 'Sure, whatever you say, babe. Straight up is fine by me.'

She nodded and started pouring hot water into a cup with one of the blackcurrant teabags. I felt like I needed to fill the air with some fresh nonsense to help pass the time.

'You know, you guys should make incense out of that to burn in the market rather than that sandalwood crap. I tell ya, that stuff makes your eyes water and your throat feel like you just swallowed a rotten pig's bladder. Not that I ever have though...'

The Hippy Chick just smiled. 'Mmm,' was all she said as she lifted the wet bag out of the cup and handed me my tea.

I lifted it up to take a sip. Man, it smelt good! I splashed a bit over my lips – and it tasted like dirt.

'How's your tea?'

'Uh, it smells better than it tastes, that's for sure.'

She giggled. 'They all do really.'

There was a moment more of quiet and I realised that this was getting real painful. It was time to get on with it and make my play. 'Look, I know I've just met ya and all that, but I was wondering if you wanted to go see something with me. You know, like just innocent shit.'

Oh jeez! What was it about her that made me such a gibbering idiot? Here I was back to being a fourteen year old fumbling around trying to undo my English teacher, Miss Flanagan's bra strap in the back seat of her car all over again. 'Anyway, me mate's son is in the Battle of the Bands final...' I went on feeling like I was dribbling lumps of lead from my lips. '...and I was wondering if you'd like to go?'

The Hippy Chick smiled at me again but this time it was a nervous one. Uh oh! I could see she was thinking I was stalking her!

I immediately put my hands up in surrender position. 'Oh hey, sorry. Look, I just kind of fancied you a bit and wanted to get to know you better. And I didn't wanna die wondering. But if you're not interested, then that's fine. Absolutely fine.' I got up and started to back away, 'I'm outta your hair right now. See you later, er, I mean – '

I cut myself off by backing into one of her tables of painted lightbulbs and they started wobbling dangerously. I whipped around to steady them and heard her chuckle.

'No. It's okay. It's just...' once the lightbulbs were safe I turned back to take my medicine. Meanwhile, the Hippy Chick was giving me the courtesy of pretending to think hard about things for a moment before answering, '...that I don't think I could watch that. Because of it's competitive nature you see.'

Well, I've had plenty of brush offs before but this one was sure original; "I'm sorry but the Battle of the Bands is too competitive in nature", I'd have to write that one up in the little black book!

But she hadn't finished yet. 'You're very sweet,' she said with one of her smiles, then she really caught me out by suddenly leaning forward and planting her lips on my cheek. Then she leant back and blushed up all red, 'maybe we could do something else some other time?'

I was dumbstruck. Even Kurt couldn't help me now. 'Uh, okay t-then,' I stammered, 'I'll come by another time... then.'

I didn't what else to say then remembered that I didn't even know her name yet which might prove to be a bit of a handicap at some point.

'What's your handle by the way?'

She smiled and giggled again. 'You say things in the funniest way! My name is Mandy.'

"Mandy". It was the name of queens and mighty and powerful chicks throughout history...

Well, it wasn't really, but it was as close as you could get without wrecking your little daughter's life by calling her "Neferteti" or "Boudicea" or anything else that would get her spat on in the playground.

Mandy's Ma had obviously been a wise and shrewd woman. I wondered what she looked like – and if I'd ever get to meet her. It'd be real interesting to see if she had great hairy thatches under her arms too or whether Mandy had got the idea from somewhere else. Chicks were usually real close to their Mas so I reckon that this must be a family thing. Time would tell. Ah well, Mandy, was still looking pretty embarrassed about succumbing to my charms so I thought I'd better get gone before it turned into regret. So I gave her a wink and a great view of my butt as I turned and headed for the first floor exit of the market.

*

Back in the Toyota I shook my head as I thought about what had just happened. What the hell was wrong with me? I'd never felt like this before. Yet here I was, a fearless Slayer of Evil, going all gooey and mushy about a chick who didn't even shave under her armpits! What was it about her that made me like this?

She was quite pretty, sure, but so were heaps of chicks I'd been with. And Rachelle was no slouch there neither. She had a nice body too, but again, Rachelle probably had her on toast, especially in the titty department. So what was it? Her clothes? Her hair? The way she talked?

I didn't know. All I really knew was that she had something that had got under my skin and I was in real danger of becoming her slave against my iron will. And that scared the shit out of me.

And excited me at the same time.

Jeez! I was going mad! I burnt away about an inch of tread screaming out from the kerb and down the road merging hard with the heavy traffic heading west. Just as well I had to go pick up those two little girls ready for tonight's Battle of the Bands final. At least I had a mission to keep my mind busy although I would only have company for the trip back to Glenvale. That left at least two and a half hours in the car by myself thinking over our conversation and whether I should keep rolling the dice with Rachelle or whether I should try sneaking back to the market...

My free hand snapped out to the car radio and I stabbed at the buttons with shaking fingers, searching for the loudest rock station I could find...

~~~~

BACKSTAGE PASSES

Margot and Stacey had been packed and ready for their trip from about 6am this morning I was told once I got to St Catherine's.

They'd certainly not spared any expense tarting themselves up for the experience neither. In fact, they'd done such a good job with the clothes and make up and all, that they looked like a couple of little baby foxes. Which was a bit of a worry considering their age and where we were going. I'd probably do quite nicely to keep an eye on them to make sure they stayed okay.

Irene wasn't there to wave us goodbye which was a bit of a shame as I'd been quite keen to meet her. But I figured that she either wanted to keep her school well clear of the seediness of the crime or suspected that something was suss about my tale. Whichever it was, I had to make do with her sidekick who made no bones about keeping everything as hush hush as possible. In fact, my wheels had barely stopped turning outside the back gate before the girls were bundled into the Toyota and we were almost given a push start off again. With no cup of tea or nothing.

Whoever said being a cop was a glamorous occupation?

The trip back was a lot easier for me not fretting about the Hippy Chick because I spent most of it chuckling to myself while I listened to the girls babble away excitedly about what was going to happen tonight. It was absolutely amazing how quick they'd tossed aside their love for horses for the thrill of meeting older boys. I guessed they were around the age where that happens though I'd had no idea how fast they could do it. They'd obviously spent the past couple of days schooling up on all the bands from all their classmates. They knew who was in them all and had learned stories about quite a few of the members. Though they hadn't heard much about Axl and his mates in Satan's Lore which was probably just as well.

The closer we got closer to Glenvale, and the Municipal Hall in particular, the more excited they got until I thought they were going to start bouncing off the walls of the Toyota. So by the time I was pulling up in the carpark outside the hall, I was wishing I'd brought a couple of sets of Forest Hill Riding School reins with us to keep them in line.

But once I'd got them to contain themselves into some sort of dignity, we immediately struck trouble. The oversized gorillas guarding the backstage door where all the bands went in and out, hadn't heard of Margot and Stacey and wouldn't let them in. I was starting to lose my famous cool and was just thinking about tearing them limb from limb with my bare hands – when Axl showed up with the rest of his band.

'Hey, man. How are ya?' he said stopping to give me a confident grin while the others lugged their gear in past the two apes. Axl was looking like he was expecting to walk away with a major prize this evening and I couldn't think of a reason why that wouldn't be the case. Satan's Lore were one of the best bands around town already, even if they were all only in their mid-teens.

'Good. You feeling on form?'

'Yeah,' Axl said, his expression changing, 'but what the hell happened to Dad's truck?' he grumbled eying me suspiciously. 'All our amps smell like horseshit now! And it's real embarrassing!'

'At least your music don't though eh?' I said grinning at him, 'and as long as the judges agree then that's all that matters.'

Alex's boy didn't look too impressed. 'Yeah well, Dad seemed to think you might know something about it.'

'Did he now?' I said, the smile vanishing off my face as fast as a dollar shooter vanishes from Guvvy's bar on a Tuesday night, 'well, your Dad has a real vivid imagination, it's a pity he doesn't always apply it to his songwriting abilities.'

Axl nodded sadly. 'Yeah, I know.'

'And speaking of your Dad,' I said pushing forward both Stacey and Margot for Axl to see, 'he promised to put these girls' names on the door for backstage passes.'

'Uhh,' Axl rolled his eyes, 'lemme guess, he forgot to do it.'

'Something like that.'

Axl eyed the two girls up while they beamed and batted their eyelashes at him. A glimmer of a smile crossed Axl's lips.

'They're only twelve,' I added sternly and Axl immediately slumped.

'Oh, jeez...' he grumbled, now glaring at them and I chuckled to myself. Stacey and Margot were obviously outside the acceptable age range for a fifteen year old boy.

'So, can you get them in and make sure someone keeps them out of trouble back there for a while?'

Axl sighed and nodded reluctantly as though I'd asked him to move all of Deep Purple's band gear by himself.

'And after this maybe you guys could go play at their college,' I said to cheer him up a bit, 'ever heard of a St Catherine's School for Girls?'

The lead guitarist from Satan's Lore shook his head but looked interested.

'It's out on the edge of town near Forest Hill,' I said, 'seems like a dowdy old place. I reckon they could use a bit of livening up. Give a woman called Irene Gundesen there a call. She just might book you in.' Axl nodded his thanks and I gave him a wink, 'yep. I can see you guys going down a treat with the womenfolk out there.'

I wished him a broken leg then left him to it and took his Dad's camcorder out into the main auditorium.

It was a great turnout. There must have been around ten thousand here tonight packed into the old Municipal Hall. Mostly young ones too. In fact, amongst this crowd, I've never felt so old in my life. But luckily there were lot of parents there as well so I slunk back to hang out with them in the back of the hall. They were hiding there half to take the pressure off their kids on stage and half because the volume of what was going on stage had blasted them back there. But it wasn't such a bad place to experience it though as at least you weren't surrounded by small figures seemly made of elbows and knees slamming into you constantly as they jumped around on the floor.

It was also probably the best place to hear the music too because of the hall acoustics and I tell you most of the bands weren't half bad. A lot of them were at least the equal of most of the cover bands creaking around town. I knew a fair few people there too as a lot of the chicks and fellas I had dealings with nowadays had kids of their own. Some of them had camcorders here too and there were lots of nods of acknowledgement toward the appropriate parent whenever that person's son or daughter ripped out a good solo. I filmed a few snippets of the other bands every now and then but I didn't want to use up too much film in case I didn't end up with enough for the whole of Satan's Lore's set. That would be a crime I would never finish suffering for.

I was just filming a clip of the Thunder Brothers when a very familiar face blocked out my screen.

'Where the hell is Alex?' It was Debs, and she was not looking happy.

'He couldn't make it.'

'I can bloody see that! I wanna know why he ain't here to watch his son play.'

A couple of people heard her over the guitarist's Hendrix-style feedback solo which might give you some idea of the ferocity in Debs' voice.

'Settle down, Debs,' I yelled, 'he sent me instead and...' I held up the camcorder, 'I'm going to get all Axl's stuff on tape for his later viewing pleasure.'

'Look, Duane, one woman might be the same as another to youse fellas, but it sure ain't like that the other way round. The same goes for kids. Axl don't want you here, he wants his Dad!'

Some of the people around us were staring to glare at us for interfering with their family entertainment so I dragged Debs off with me into a quieter and deserted corner of the venue. 'Well, Debs, it's like Mick says; you can't always get what you want. And that includes fifteen year old boys, which is sad but true. So tonight's a tip top learning lesson for Axl for later life.'

'Bullshit! Where do you get off wanking on about raising kids?'

Oh, Debs, what the hell did you have to go there for? Now I had no option but to sink the boot in.

'About the same place you did, Debs.'

Ouch. That knocked her off the rails a bit. But she was so rarked she wasn't going to let a shot like that put her off the scent.

'Oh, go screw yourself. What the hell have you got him doing? And don't deny nothing, coz I know you're in the guts of it! What've you been whispering in his ear?'

I wasn't sure how much Debs knew about Alex's jazz fetish so I figured I better play dumb here to avoid any chance of breaking up their legit band. 'Debs, will ya just cool it? Alex must have a real good reason to not be here coz he would if he could. And it's a known fact that you can't go discovering new lands without losing sight of the shore.'

'Oh ho ho!' Debs laughed at me and it wasn't a pretty sound, 'now the truth is out! That sounds like that bloody Kurt prick talking! And guess who's been listening to him!'

'Jeez! You're having a go at Kurt now? Who's next? I better go warn the barman to be careful pouring your drink!'

'I'll give that ponytailed softcock some fucking philosophy! What the hell do you want to take any notice of Kurt for? We all know he's got nothing in his pants to be proud of!'

'Hey, go easy! That's me mate you're talking about!'

'Well, I'm glad he's got someone who'll give him the time of day. Coz he ain't got many others that's for sure. And if you don't believe me, ask around.'

I sadly shook the dust out of my flowing locks at this comment. 'I'm totally gutted to hear you of all people say that, Debs. I never thought I'd ever hear you talk about popularity as being anything to do with mateship. Are you telling me that's why you've hung around with me all these years? Coz of me popularity?'

Debs gave me a funny look. 'I wouldn't get too cocky about that one no more neither, if I was you,' she said with a complete lack of smile action, 'and again I say, don't just take my word for it. Go ask around.' With that, she shot through leaving me to wonder what the hell she meant.

I spent a few minutes there alone racking my brain but couldn't make head nor tail of it so I wandered over to the back bar and grabbed myself a beer before drifting back inside. The Thunder Brothers had finished but there was still no Satan's Lore. The organisers must be saving them up to be the final act I reckoned and checked my tape store. I still had plenty left so I started filming a bit of the kids who were onstage at the moment. I'd missed their name but wasn't too worried about it, they weren't as good as some of the others.

Just as the ordinary band finished up another familiar face popped up, and again it wasn't smiling. Although it wasn't as angry looking as the last one.

'Look I'm sorry about the other night,' Rachelle said in a real quiet voice for her, 'that was just girl shit.' Then she shrugged, 'we can't help it. It's in our nature to try on clothes before we buy 'em.'

I nodded. You couldn't argue with that fact. The metric system didn't go far enough to count the number of hours I'd spent cooling my heels on the foyer lino in a mall. I'd be parked up there outside a dress shop waiting for some chick I had the hots for to finish tossing skirts over her head. And while I sat there wearing my smile mask, I'd also be wondering how the hell I'd ever get that time back. 'So, what do you wanna do now?'

She eyed me up. 'Well, I was hoping we could, you know, carry on from where we were?'

'And where was that exactly? Back at the arguing or at the shagging?'

'Oh, don't be a bastard, Duane,' she said giving out a sigh, 'I promise not to lay any more of that crap on you again, just don't keep squeezing me tit about it.'

'All right, fair enough.'

I said that out loud but the sad truth was that Big Chief Raging Horn, who normally rode up along with Rachelle, had gone walkabout. And he hadn't left a note to say when he'd be back neither. And whether this was because he'd had a gutsful of her tantrums or whether he was already busy thinking about golden-thatched armpits, he hadn't said.

Just at this point the mc came back on stage to announce it was Satan's Lore's turn to wow the crowd. I may be biased but I'm sure this news was getting the biggest cheer of the night and there seemed to be fewer of us lingering toward the back, with the rest all pressing forward into the mosh pit.

I turned back to Rachelle. 'Look, I'm sorry, babe, but I gotta film this for Alex, so...' then I shrugged as a polite way of saying, "can you piss off and let me do my job?" But I figured I'd better also dangle a carrot for her too though, 'I might see ya later?'

Rachelle stared at me for a moment before answering. 'Yeah,' she said so quietly I could barely hear her amongst the cheering, 'you might.' Then she turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

Satan's Lore were easily the best band on show tonight. They whipped up the crowd to a frenzy with their showmanship and their skill. Honestly it was amazing to watch kids so young look and behave so professionally on stage. But I guess that because they were all sons of band hacks, it gave them an unfair head start. It was in their blood and it was all they knew, having been brought up on the smell of a beer-soaked bar cloth and with the sound of the bass drum pulsing through their mother's womb. But best of all was Axl, and even though he wasn't my kid, I still felt proud as he ripped off solo after solo, playing stuff I'd never heard or even thought possible before. The crowd felt it too and went all quiet when it was his turn to take the spotlight. Again and again we all thought we'd hear him do something similar, but always he surprised us all. Shit, the kid was good!

Needless to say Axl was the main focus of my camera and, for a quick moment, I felt bad for Alex not being here to see it too. Then I remembered what he was up to tonight and cursed myself for being such a softcock. Bloody Debs! She could spit poison into your ear from a thousand paces, that girl!

It was the worst kept secret in Glenvale, but Satan's Lore were declared the winners and everyone headed for the doors feeling happy. The other bands knowing exactly what they had to match for next year and the punters knowing that rock was still alive – at least for a little while longer.

I made my way toward the backstage area my eyes peeled for the Nancy Drew twins. There were a lot of people trying to get back there to see their kids or their heroes but, because the show had finished, the apes were less aggressive and I managed to sneak past them. Wandering through scenes of disturbing depravity I came across the two girls chatting to an older hanger-on type boy who ought to know better.

'Hey, Smiley!' I shouted in his ear, 'your Ma is waiting for you out there!'

He turned and stared at me in amazement. 'What the...? Piss o – '

The rest of his comment was permanently lost to history as he was suddenly propelled sideways through the curtain and into an impromptu stage dive by a combination of a open-hand slap to the ear and a boot fair square in the bunghole.

I turned my attention to the two girls. 'Come on you two. It's time to go back.'

As you can probably imagine, this went down like prayers at an Ozzy Osbourne concert. I let them stain the air with their groans for a moment before pointing a Dad-like finger at them. 'Now come on girls, I'm already on the hellfire and damnation list for letting you go back here. Don't go making it worse for me by missing your curfew too.'

They stopped grumbling and started pouting.

'Now,' I said as I started to shepherd them out of the backstage area, 'did you get everyone's autograph? You never know, they may be worth something one day.'

'Oh, I got something even better,' Stacey said brightening up again, 'the singer from Satan's Lore gave me a kiss!' she said excitedly touching the edge of her left cheek where some pimply boy's lips had been, as though the spot had been blessed by angels.

'He better not have given you nothing else or he'll be answering to me!' I fumed looking back towards the stage.

'Don't worry,' Debs muttered coming out from behind us, 'I kept a sharp eye out for them, even if I don't know shag about raising kids!' She gave me a filthy look before turning back to the girls, 'now you two go with Detective Mullett without any more fuss you hear me? He's already karate chopped the rulebook enough for one night.'

'Yes Aunty Debs!' Stacey and Margot replied together.

'All right girls,' Debs went on, 'have a safe trip back. Then, next time you're in town, I'll take you to see that Nancy Drew movie.' Then she kissed them both on the cheek and the girls nodded then turned to me smiling and ready to go.

'Aunty Debs, huh?' I raised my eyebrows at Debs and she shrugged.

'The story of my life,' she sighed and then looked me hard in the eye, 'now you be good to young Rachelle won't ya. She's a mate of mine.'

''Course I will, Debs,' I said giving her a wink, 'and everytime I shag her, I'll be thinking of you.'

~~~~

ON A RECRUITMENT DRIVE

In the car on the road back to Forest Hill the girls were calmer this time. They were still buzzing about the people they'd met and how cool it all was but I could sense that they were also a little disappointed in a way. I guess they'd hyped everything up so much in their minds beforehand that there was no way the night could live up to their fierce imaginations. They didn't seem too upset about it though and after a while they turned their attention back to me. After a bit of whispering in the back seat I heard Margot clear her throat.

'Detective Mullett, me and Stacey have had a vote and we've made you an honorary member of our club.'

Despite myself I felt a bit touched by this. 'Oh, have ya now?'

'Yes, but you don't have to go through our initiation or anything,' Margot added in her serious voice, 'because we can forgo the rules in special cases.'

Stacey chimed in. 'So, from now on we'll be known as the Sign of Five. But your identity will remain secret, even from Abby and Janelle. Our lips are sealed.'

After she said that I could see in the rear view mirror both girls turn imaginary keys in their tightly shut mouths and throw them away over their shoulders.

'Look girls,' I said chuckling, 'that's real nice of you but I can't join your club. You see, us cops are bound by a sacred oath not to belong to any secret societies so we can't be accused of playing favourites.'

It was a load of crap of course. Us cops belonged to more secret societies than anyone else in the world. It was just about a requirement for the job. Although I wasn't much of a club man myself, unless you count drinking in the same pubs over and over.

To be honest, I just didn't have the heart to tell the girls the real reason why I couldn't belong to their club. You see, there aren't too many people around who'd look kindly on a single adult fella who belonged to the same club as a bunch of young girls, especially if that link was "secret".

I could always let them down gently though...

'But I can be the Sign of Four's special protector,' I said, 'so if you ever have any trouble you can just call the Glenvale Central police station and ask for me, Detective Duane Mullett, at reception. Then I'll come out and sort it for you. How's that sound?'

They were stone chuffed about that.

'We knew your name wasn't really "Rocky",' Margot said smiling.

Huh? Oh yeah, that's right. I'd forgotten that me and Alex had given them fake names back in the barn.

'You're not a very good liar,' Stacey added with a smirk.

'Well, it's probably for the best. It's not a good skill to have,' I lied.

After that it was pretty quiet until we reached the school and I helped them unpack themselves from my car.

'Okay, girls,' I said standing on the road outside with the girls feeling a little sad to see them go. I'd really grown to like them over the past few days, 'I guess it's goodbye time now. But remember what I said, if you ever get into trouble, just let me know.'

They nodded and then first Stacey, and then Margot, reached up to give me a little kiss on the cheek to say thanks.

'Do you think the singer from Satan's Lore would ever want to join the Sign of Four?' Stacey asked.

I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing out loud about that one. 'I don't know, babe, but I'll pass that on to Alex's boy Axl for you,' I said with a wink.

They waved goodbye and ran off toward the back door of the school. I watched to make sure they got in all right then got back into the Toyota and turned her head for home.

~~~~

WHERE'S TINTIN NOW?

By the time I'd driven back home to the eyrie again, the sun was up ready for a new day of randomness. It was a shame I was too knackered to enjoy it. All I wanted, I thought as I unlocked the flat front door, was to hit the sack with no more surprise visitors – whether they be good or evil.

It was obviously too much to ask. Because, just as I opened the door, who should step out of the hallway shadows but my long lost brother Brian. Looking worse for wear too with his face all bruised and raw looking. Smithy must have been real thorough in brushing away the dandruff.

But what did I care? Now it was my turn to be the rude prick. 'What the hell do you want?' I snapped, 'has it been ten years already?'

For an answer Brian just pushed past me into the flat.

'Come on in, make yourself at home,' but I needn't have bothered wasting my breath. He hadn't waited for any invitation to open my fridge and take out a beer. And that was just one for him too, I was left to fend for myself.

'You still got the thing with the hawks I see,' he said pointing out some of my paintings and sculptures around the room with his beer bottle and chuckling at me, 'very mature.'

I didn't answer, I just got myself a beer out of the fridge too and drank from it watching him.

Brian threw himself into my armchair and squirmed around until he was comfortable before starting straight into it. 'Now that Shorty's out of the way, some turf has come up.'

'So?'

Brian eyed me over his beer. 'I want it.'

I belched at him. 'Well, that's great, Bri. You have my permission to go for it.'

My little brother just grinned and shook his head. 'It's not so easy. I need some – obstacles – taken out of the way first.' He looked hard at me, 'and I need you to do that for me.'

Oh man! This was priceless! The cheek of the guy after his performance yesterday! I took great pleasure in saying: 'Piss off.'

Brian wasn't fazed. 'I'm your brother, Duane.'

'Excuse me while I dance for joy,' I said giving him the finger, 'but I'm not big on family, Bri.'

He grinned again. 'Oh really? So your running into me on the street the other day was pure co-incidence was it? And your visiting our mother just before that too?'

Oops, I felt myself starting to stretch out over a big wooden barrel. I'd better murk up the waters a bit. Real quick. 'I was only trying to get my Tintin book back,' I said taking another swig of my beer. Jeez! Where the hell had that come from?

But it had worked! For the first time in a very long while I saw my brother look confused. 'Huh? I haven't got your Tintin book.'

'Bullcrap you haven't! It was Tintin and the Black Island. I know you took it coz it disappeared right around the time when you left home.'

Despite himself, Brian couldn't resist the argument. 'Well, that'll teach you for living at home for so long, sponging off Ma!'

'I never sponged! I paid her board!'

'Only when you felt like it!'

'We never got paid that much back then!' I shouted, 'but at least I had a job. Unlike you!'

'So what?' Brian was out of my chair now, shouting back, 'I always paid my share!'

'Yeah, with someone else's money!'

I had him with that one. We stopped yelling words at each other for a minute and replaced them with glares. Brian was the first one to blink. 'All right, all right!' he said, 'I took your fucking Tintin book. But I haven't got it anymore. I traded it for some jeans ages ago.'

'Eh?'

'Yeah, Squid was around at my place one day with some jeans with ace patches on them that I really liked. And he liked Tintin, so we swapped,' Brian shrugged, 'okay, so I got ripped off. But I got him back enough! Ever since, every time that prick comes to me for dak, he pays the premium rate! No bloody mates' rates there!' He stopped and stared at me for a moment, 'why do you even want it, Duane? You never read it then and you sure as hell won't read it now.'

It was a good question. One that I wasn't even sure I had an answer for. I thought I'd give it a go anyway. 'Because it was mine and you stole it from me.'

After hearing this Brian just threw his hands up, leaned back in his chair and said nothing.

I figured it was time to leave Tintin be. 'How'd you get involved, Bri?' I said instead, 'how'd you get into all that shit?'

'Ah, it was good,' Brian said waving my question away as though I was asking him how his bath had gone, 'dealing dak is the bloody duck's nuts! You're never short of mates. Everyone wants to know you, there's always heaps of parties and plenty of girls to shag. Life's good. You're a frigging rock star.'

I looked at the bruises on his face. 'But you get whacked over every now and then though eh?'

Brian saw what I was looking at. 'Yeah, you get whacked over every now and then,' he said with another shrug, 'but so what? Bruises heal, getting abused daily by string dick bosses never does. The amount of guys I've seen ruined by working for a living kills me.'

I looked at my little brother. He was so determined to make it in this business I could see it gleaming out through the holes in his skin. 'So what sort of obstacles were you talking about?'

Brian leaned forward his eyes gleaming. 'A stupid redneck jock with a string of failed businesses and a taste for TV Producer cock.'

I shook my head. 'My orders are to bust Manuel Olivier, not Smithy.'

'I know, but what profile has Manny got outside the biz? Smithy would be a much bigger catch for you coz everyone loves Smithy!' Brian did a piss-take of Smithy's famous shrug. 'Besides, I guarantee that if you get that Smithy prick, you'll get Olivier as well. They're joined at the ringpiece.' My brother grinned and swigged at my beer. 'And I tell ya, it'll be a piece of piss, coz Smithy's got these "other interests" you see – '

'Yeah, his TV shows, I've seen them. He's pretty funny eh.'

Brian snorted. 'To a retarded monkey, maybe,' he said then he waved the subject away and leaned forward, 'look, I'm not talking about that shit. What I'm saying here now is that our precious sports star cum presenter and premium fuckwit, has a burning thirst for crime...' Brian looked me hard in the eye here, '...and it's a thirst he slakes in the company of Jack Daniels!'

My brother gave me a wink and leant back nodding firmly as though he'd told me something that I should take notice of. Which was fine except I had no idea what he was babbling about.

'Huh?'

Brian shook his head in disgust. 'You know, we may have the same genes but I swear you keep yours down around your ankles! I'm telling you that Smithy's been nicking piss from down the wharves, ya moron!'

'Shit! Does Manny know about that?'

In reply my brother stuck his fingers in his eyeballs to help him calm down. 'No, he doesn't, Duane. Which is quite possibly the reason why I suggested it to you. You see, Smithy's been operating down there on the sly which is going to piss Manny off and cause friction between them when he finds out he's been missing out on a percentage. Then I'm sure that Smithy, being the weasel that he is, will spill the beans to you about Manny and you'll be able to kill both birds with one stone...' and here my brother glanced up at me again, 'without having to drag me into the equation.'

Aha! So now the truth was out! My brother was actually scared of me and my current bust-athon form which was super chuffing. It had been a real long time since I'd seen Brian show any sort of respect to me. So I enjoyed the moment swigging away at my beer and squinting at him as though I was considering whether he was worth saving or not.

'So which wharf is old Smithy operating out of?'

'Huh?' my brother was outraged, 'why ask me? What do you think I am? A goddamn snitch? I thought you were s'posed to be the great detective? Go find that out for yourself!'

Frankly, I thought he was doing a pretty good impersonation of being a snitch, myself. And it looked like his respect for me had been pretty short-lived but then again, scraps are a feast to a beggar and at least I had something to smile about the next time I saw Ma.

I was about to tell my brother that I'd think about bailing him out when my cellphone chose this moment to ring.

I looked at the screen and saw it was Irene from St Catherine's. 'Hey, Bri, I gotta take this, so do you wanna piss off?'

Brian got up to go. 'Just find out which storehouse they're pinching from, Duane. Then be there Wednesday night and I'll make sure Manny turns up,' he said heading for the exit, 'see ya later.'

'Yeah, how 'bout in 2020? I'll call you.' I slammed the door on him and answered my phone.

~~~~

UH OH

'I thought you said you were the policeman on the Bogan Boy case?' was the way Irene opened our conversation.

'Yeah, I am. Why?'

'I've just had another detective call by recently and he said exactly the same thing.'

Uh oh. That didn't sound good at all. 'Uhh, what did he want?'

There was a moment of quiet before Irene answered. 'To interview me about the case... of course.'

Jeez! What was the matter with the prick? Didn't he have anything better to do with his time than working his job?

'Did you tell him about me?'

'Yes I did. Why? Shouldn't I have?'

'Oh no, no. that's all right,' I said the sweat pouring down my back, 'wh-what did he say when you told him my name?'

'He didn't say much. Just, "oh, that was interesting".'

'Did he say anything else?'

'Look! What's going on, Detective? Are you two competing for the same job?'

Even though we were talking over the phone there was no mistaking the major rark action in her voice. I was in trouble deep here but before I could think up an answer, she'd already moved on to her retort.

'Detective Mullett, I am a busy woman with over 400 young girls to look after. I do not have time to waste playing power games with silly little boys as well. I would suggest that you contact this... Detective Floyd immediately and compare notes. I do not wish to hear from either of you again unless you are both working together toward solving this case. Otherwise, I shall have to notify the appropriate authorities and report any perceived misconduct. Do I make myself clear, Detective?'

'Yes ma'am,' I managed to get out before the line went dead.

Shit! I threw the phone onto my bed in disgust and sat myself down after it. What the hell could I do? The way I saw it, there were two ways I could go with this, but either way I was stuffed. If I went to see this Floyd character, he'd want to know what my involvement in the case was. And if I didn't go see him, and he got hold of Irene again, she'd come down like a ton of bricks on me anyway.

My hand was forced. It was just a case of deciding whether to sacrifice the left or the right one into the meat mincer.

But I was kidding myself. There was no choice really. It had to be Floyd. Irene was now already red-line rarked and I couldn't risk her spilling her guts to all and sundry, which she'd surely do if she ever heard the name Bogan Boy again. But if I went to see this Floyd maybe I could spin him some bullshit about me hearing a whisper that some thieves had stashed a horse near a school and I was just looking for it on the side. And if he was thick, maybe he'd swallow it.

Maybe...

But hey, how smart could he be anyway? Working out in some tinpot station out in some hick countryside, this Floyd must be pretty bloody dumb or else he'd have got himself transferred to a place with flushing toilets and electricity. In fact, he was probably a toothless gimp with flax hair and overalls who wandered around in barefeet playing the banjo and shagging his mother.

Yeah! What was I worrying about him for? He'd be a pushover for a crafty Slayer of Evil like myself. All I had to do was to sharpen the beak on a handy rock then slit his stupid okie belly open and help myself to a feed of his insides.

I grabbed back the phone off the bed and called Directory...

*

The receptionist at the Forest Hill District Police Station was very young and dead keen to get transferred out of Sticksville asap going by the way she handled the phone request from a big city detective. 'Detective Floyd's been expecting your call for a while, sir!' the breathless voice said, 'and he said you could find him in the Carlton Hotel at any time you wished to call by, sir!'

The Carlton? What the hell was this country hick doing here on our turf? Wasn't it milking time about now?

'Thank you very much, Miss – ?'

'Raewyn Shaw, sir!'

'You've been most helpful, Miss Shaw.'

'Anything to help, sir! Anything at all!'

I wondered what she looked like as I hung up. It had been a real long time since I'd heard enthusiasm like that anywhere in Glenvale. Maybe I'd have time to swing by the station the next time I was out Forest Hill way...

But that would have to wait because now work had to intrude. So I left plenty of rubber on the corners on the way around to Alex's place and scooped him up from cleaning out the garage detail.

'How'd the gig go?' I asked once he jumped into the Toyota beside me.

'Hmm, not bad,' he said after thinking about it for a moment, 'we managed to play for about ten minutes before they started bottling us. So then we switched over to Eagles covers and everyone was happy.'

'But you did manage to get in a couple of jazz numbers?'

'About two and a half,' Alex nodded, his head deep in the leopardskin.

'Ah, well,' I said, 'baby steps, eh?'

'Yeah, and Rex wants us back so all is good,' my partner agreed grinning, 'and I hear you brought in the infamous Shorty? So does that mean we're off the hook with the boss?'

'Oh, don't even go there!' I said shaking the dust out of my flowing locks, 'I can only handle one disaster at a time at the moment.'

Alex's rare grin finally realised it didn't belong on this strange face and disappeared real quick. 'Why? What's up?'

I quickly filled him in about Irene's phone call and the fact that there was some cop called Floyd snuffling around on our trail.

'Oh jeez...' he had time to get out before the Toyota's wheels ran out of asphault and we graunched aground on weeds in the empty lot next to the rundown factories. The spot where Dog's car – used to be.

Now there was nothing except a big patch of sick looking grass to show where Dog's car had lain for a couple of weeks and a few smaller ones to show where a drunken Dog had lain to vomit. Of the man himself, there was no sign.

Where the hell was he?

'He'll be in Clevedon now,' Alex was saying as he leant up against the bonnet while I stormed around through the long grass, 'they've got a spring carnival coming up. Three racedays in a week, starting Friday.'

I shook my head. 'No he won't be there. He'll be lying low somewhere waiting to collect the insurance on Bogan Boy. We'll hear from him soon enough.'

Alex wasn't convinced. 'Dream on, Duane! Face it, he just used you like you were bogpaper.'

'Shut yer gob!'

But my partner wasn't to be put off so easily. 'Bloody wake up, man! Dog is a ruthless scum-sucking pornbag who just took you for a ride. Whatever mateship you guys used to have is toast. Money's fried him up like an egg.'

'You're talking shit. You don't know him like I do.'

Alex laughed and it wasn't a happy sound. 'Bullcrap! I probably know him better than you, Duane. Like you said, I'm a gambler too.'

Much as I hated to admit it, my partner's words were shaping up nicely as a good answer to why Dog had disappeared on me. But surely my old mate wouldn't have left me in the lurch like this? After all we'd been through together over the years! It was too gruesome to even think about.

'All right, all right,' I said trying not to let Alex's words sink in, 'we better go see this Floyd and try to bluff it out then.'

~~~~

A TASTE OF DOG

The Carlton was quiet enough for us to easily pick out who Floyd was. There was only one fella in here not dressed head to toe in black and/or denim so he had to be our man.

Floyd was a chubby sack of spuds aged somewhere between 40 and 50 with a big head and fleshy lips. He wore an open neck pastel shirt, polyester pants and matching jacket. He was also drinking beer so I brought him one over with us.

'Detective Floyd?' I asked as me and Alex sat down at the table where he was sitting alone.

'Call me Garth,' he said looking me up and down, 'though most people call me "Sticky". Can't think why!' he added with a wink. Then he pulled a face as something struck him about me, 'what happened to your eyebrows?'

'Look, don't worry about that,' I said waving the subject away, 'I'm Detective Duane Mullett and this is Detective Szabo, and we're investigating the disappearance of the racehorse Bogan Boy. I understand that you have some information that may be of assistance to us?'

Floyd had been listening to my spiel with a fat-lipped smirk plastered all over his face. Once I paused for breath, he leapt in. 'Oh, sweetheart! You don't have to pull my chain about that. Old Sticky knows all!'

Me and Alex glanced at each other then looked back at the country cop.

He reached over the table and patted my arm softly. 'Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, honey. I've already got a buyer for your horsie,' Sticky looked like he was feeling pretty good about himself here. 'Offshore. You know, one of them teatowel heads.'

At about this point I noticed that he had a really weird, and frankly, irritating habit of licking his lips all the time. And it wasn't just a lizard-like flicker neither, it was more the Chesire Cat checking out two cream tanker trucks crashing into each other outside his doorstep. 'That's why I've been sniffing around your doorstep, sweetie,' he went on, 'I've just been juggling all the paperwork all over town. And paying off the Fraud Office! I tell you, those bitches can really squeal if they don't get their cut!' He stopped talking long enough to wet his lips again, 'so everything's sweet as a nut as you fellows say. Sweeeeeet as nuts!' he giggled to himself at how good his impersonation of me and Alex's accent was.

I realised I'd been rumbled. Somehow it seemed that me and Alex were just pawns in this game. I glanced around but no one else in the bar was paying us the slightest heed of attention. 'So... what do we do now?' I asked the country cop, 'shift the horse again?'

Sticky waved his finger from side to side at me while he took another slug of his beer. 'Uh uh! No, no! Your work is done now my friend – friends,' he said looking at Alex for the first time. 'Leave the geegee right where he be, back at that whore college. We'll handle everything from here on in. All you need to do now is count your money.'

Me and Alex glanced at each other again. Money? What money?

'Eh? What the – ?' Sticky asked in his fake Glenvale accent again and took the piss out of our surprised faces, 'did you boys think the Dog was going to leave you without a taste? After all you've done?'

'Dog?' I blurted it out. I couldn't help myself. I was so surprised to hear my mate's name spill from those repulsive lips.

Sticky winked at me. 'That's right, sugar!' he said, 'old Doggy's been licking his balls over this one for ages. And it's gone off a treat. With no little help from you two either,' at this point he did some sort of country toast by slamming his glass into mine so hard the beer splashed up over my wrist. He didn't notice though, he was so excited, 'here's to Dog, may he always move in such mysterious ways!' Sticky said and licked his lips clean again before chugging away at his beer.

Well well! Dog had ridden in on the big white stallion after all. I looked back at Alex triumphantly, scoop that one up partner!

But Sticky hadn't finished yet. 'There's only one thing I can't understand,' he went on, 'why didn't you contact me straightaway? What were you waiting for? Didn't the old Dogster give you my number?'

'No.'

'Is that a fact?' Floyd sat back and looked thoughtful as he sipped his drink, 'I wonder why he did that?'

I was starting to think I had an idea why; one Detective Duane Mullett kicking him fair square in the bunghole probably hadn't helped his mood toward me. Still, there wasn't much use spilling my guts about that to this fruitcake. 'He must've just sloped off,' I said instead.

'Maybe he got attacked by his chicken,' Alex muttered sourly.

'Yeah, maybe,' Sticky gave Alex an unfriendly type look as though he didn't like words like that said about his friend. He turned back to me, 'anyway, once you didn't call I expected that you'd start chatting up old Goodnight Irene sooner or later. Am I right?'

Yeah, I nodded, you were right. Take a bow, Sherlock Holmes.

He grinned. 'Ha ha! I thought so! Tell me, what did you say to keep that old dragon quiet about all this?'

'Nothing,' I said taking a sip of my beer, 'I just flopped out me cock and she was speechless.' I was getting real sick of this guy's bragging on. No wonder he was a cop, he wouldn't sell many cars jerking himself off in public like this. 'Now what were you saying before about money?'

Old Sticky looked like I'd just punched him in the nose. But, to his credit, he chugged down the hint and saved the rest of his story to tell his Ma at Christmas time. And better still, he pulled out a great wad of cash and gave it to me in return for us walking away from Bogan Boy. Something we had no qualms whatsoever about doing.

~~~~

SOME TOUGH LOVE

Back in the Toyota I flicked through the great wad of cash. There was five grand in all. Not a bad haul for a night's work. I glanced over at Alex who was looking longingly at the money. And no doubt thinking about a quick trip to the betting shop too, I thought.

'I dunno what you're looking so hopeful for,' I said to him.

'Eh? Whaddya talking about?'

'You see this?' I waved the wad under Alex's nose, 'half of that is yours by rights. But you know what? I'm not going to give it to you.'

'What?'

'Money has destroyed you, Alex. It's stolen away your belief in mateship. All that betting's killed your heart. And now you think everyone else is as money-grubbing and desperate as you are.'

Alex looked stunned at my words but I refused to feel sorry for him. What I was saying might be a little harsh, but it was also fair. And sometimes we all need a swift kick to the nuts to set us back on the sweet path to glory.

In fact, if the truth be known, part of my rarking up Alex was me pissed off at myself for doubting Dog's intentions. But hey, Alex himself was also not unsinful. He'd always been there to give a handy legup to my doubts, so now was the time for him to receive his rightful spray in return.

'No, I'm going to teach you a lesson. I'm going to demonstrate to you the power of mateship through some tough love.'

Alex was unhappy about this. 'You absolute bastard!' he remarked.

'Say what you like my friend,' I said, 'but you're not getting this money. Your creditors are.'

Alex stopped looking angry and started looking confused. 'Eh?'

'You and me are going to go around the power board, the gas company, the water board, the rent office and, no bloody doubt, the music shop too. And we're going to settle up all your accounts out of your share before I let you have one centavo of the rest.'

Alex went back to being unhappy. 'Don't talk down to me you bastard! I'm not some goddamned kid!'

'No. You're not a kid,' I agreed, 'but you are a goddamned gambler aren't ya?'

*

So that's what we did. We drove all over town and paid off Alex's debts, one by one. Alex hated it and switched between sulky silence and screaming abuse at me the whole time. It wasn't much fun for either of us I guess, but then again, they don't call it "tough" love for nothing now do they?

When we'd finished there was only about $150 of his money left. So when we finally pulled up outside his house, I peeled it off the wad. 'Well, that was a barrel of laughs.' I said and handed Alex the last of his share. 'There you go, merry bloody Christmas! Spend it widely. Go buy yourself some guitar strings or the Missus a vibrator or something.'

Alex snatched the money from my hand. Then, turning his head to look at me real slow he said. 'You are without doubt the biggest arsehole to ever walk the planet,' he thought for a moment before adding, 'but thanks.'

With that, he got out of the car and headed up towards his house without another word.

~~~~

GLITTERING IN THE LIMELIGHT

Now, the boss was wanting me to bring in Manny Olivier but the more I thought about it, the more I thought Brian was right and that Smithy might be the better catch. He'd been the Devils' captain for years now, was on TV all the time, his Smithy businesses were just about on every street corner and absolutely everyone took the piss out of his 'I'm Smithy!' shrug. If he was to go down for drugs there was no way anyone in Glenvale, or even the whole goddamn City, wouldn't know about it.

I also figured that the boss, once he'd got over his sulk that I'd given his handy hint of an arrest target the finger, would come right. Especially if his bosses whipped out the kneepads for him over him painting a picture of competence in the force.

The trick would be in snaffling Smithy. It wouldn't be easy but I didn't think it was impossible neither. And the secret could have actually come from a surprising source; namely Manny getting all buddy-buddy with me over Shorty. It had truly peeled the scales off my eyes. Manny was obviously the brains of their nefarious outfit and if he was willing to hand me one of his foot soldiers on a silver plate just for sniffing a couple of dealers' bike seats then there had to be a chance I could get him to cough up one of his lieutenants too. All I had to do was cuddle up close enough so I could whisper my crafty charms into his ear. And, going by Smithy's constant digs at him back at the Smithy Soupastar premises, I figured that just maybe there was enough friction going on between the two that Manny would consider pruning the rose garden.

Then, with Smithy in the jeans pocket, I'd have the boss off my case, Brian popping around for brotherly beers and the jingle jangle of an anklet rattling from the darkest corners of the Valiant's back seat. The Black Hawk would truly be soaring high over the plain...

After a bit of ringing around I managed to track down Manny just as he was walking in the door of some sort of TV editing place called 11th Hour Productions. He looked real stunned to see me there in the foyer.

'Detective Mullett! What a – pleasant – surprise.'

'Hey, fella. I just swung by for a yak.'

'Oh really?' Manny reached for the cup of coffee the hot-looking receptionist was busy handing him and eyed me up and down. 'I see. Well, I'm just about to go in to have a look at a few edits. Do you want to sit in and maybe we could have our "yak" there?'

I couldn't see a problem with that and, after the receptionist had made me a coffee – and I'd had a decent crack at scoring her phone number – I followed the sports agent through a door marked "Edit Suite 3".

Inside, we were met by a tall and scrawny-looking guy who told us in a high squeaky voice that his name was "Thor". I almost laughed out loud, then I noticed that the walls in the room were covered in Red Indian dreamcatchers and pictures of chiefs sitting on their horses and wearing their feather headdresses. The guy was obviously a member of some sort of hippy freakazoid cult that specialised in going gaga over Apache stuff. I bet this guy had a teepee in his lounge back at home and chopped up his salads with a stone axe.

He wasn't that stoked to have us perving at his secret feather stash neither. 'Look, I'm sorry, sir,' he squeaked at my fat buddy, 'but why are you here? The Channel has signed off your show already and – '

'Yeah, but the Channel don't know jack about television now do they?' Manny replied grabbing two wheelie chairs and pushing them over next to Thor's edit screen for me and him to sit on, 'otherwise they'd be out there making it themselves wouldn't they?' He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it as we sat down next to Thor, 'I'm just here now to quality check my client's product, so be a good boy, quit whining and play down what you've got there will you?'

Thor glowered sullenly at him. 'And you can't smoke in here, you'll fuck the equipment.'

'Here's a tip; the play button's the green one,' Manny said blowing smoke in Thor's face and reaching over to tap a finger impatiently on his keyboard.
Thor knew when he was beat. He stumped back over to his keyboard and punched the green button, an image of Smithy wearing nothing but an oversized nappy held together with a giant safety pin came on screen.

'Ah!' Manny said with a smile, 'SmithySan, second series! This must be the "Sumo" episode.'

'Behold the genius!' Thor muttered under his breath as the camera widened to show that Smithy was indeed in the ring with a genuine Sumo wrestler with a crowd of mainly Japanese businessmen looking on. The Sumo wrestler started to go through his pre-fight stamping and body-slapping ritual only to be aped in a piss-taking type of way by Smithy.

'Now what did you want to "yak" to me about, Detective?' Manny asked, his eyes glued to the screen watching Smithy as his stamping started looking less Sumo and more like a clumsy Highland Fling.

This wasn't quite going the way I'd hoped. I had a strong feeling that Manny might not be so hot on my idea of tossing his star client to the wolves, especially if he was watching him on a TV screen at the time. I'd do quite nicely by warming him up to the idea gradually.

'I need another present like the one you gave me the other day,' I muttered quietly so that Thor couldn't hear.

Manny obviously wasn't worried about the editor as he raised his bushy eyebrows and spoke normally. 'Really? I give you Shorty and still you want more? Where will all this arresting business stop? With me behind bars?'

'Oh, no way!' I was super quick to snuff that idea out just in case he started thinking I'd said it, as more than one chick has burnt me with that one before, 'I just need one more to keep my prick boss happy.'

You see, I called my boss a "prick" because it might make Manny feel like we were on the same side. The man himself didn't answer straightaway as he was busy watching Smithy pretend that all the stamping had caused him to fart in his nappy. The footy star was now waving a hand in front of his face and pulling faces as though it stank real bad. The Sumo fella was staring at him from across the ring and he did not look happy at all.

Manny chuckled then turned to shake his head at me. 'No, I don't think so, Duane,' he said flicking ash off his cigarette onto the floor of the suite, 'I've been generous enough.'

'Oh come on!' I said, 'what's one more? I promise you it will stop after him.'

On screen the Sumo fella suddenly barged across the ring and hit Smithy out of shot so hard it was like he'd been vaporised. Thor laughed out loud.

'It's not funny really,' Manny said glaring at the editor, 'he actually broke Smithy's collarbone doing that.' He turned back to me, 'but luckily you can sue over in Japan so we ended up coming out on top. Basically we got the equivalent of two year's salary! Two years! Can you believe it?' he gave me a wink and clinked his coffee cup against mine.

Now we could see Smithy rolling around in agony on the floor outside the ring clutching his shoulder. As he writhed, his nappy flapped up exposing an entire butt cheek for the low angle camera. Manny reached over and tapped Thor on the shoulder. 'Woah! That was a cracker! Have you got any more booty shots like that?'

Thor glanced back at him with a smirk. 'Are you kidding? There's shitloads. I reckon they must have had a dedicated crack-cam on set.'

'Good. Well, screw the Channel and crowbar in a few more of those scenes for me now,' Manny ordered him then turned back to me with a wink. 'That's my Smithy! He's got a wonderful butt. The ladies go wild over it. The others do too,' he added quietly to me with a slight nod towards Thor.

'Hey! I'm not gay,' Thor muttered back as he searched through files of footage onscreen, 'and besides, you were the one calling it "wonderful"!'

But Manny wasn't listening to him, he'd already turned his attention back to me. 'Now, Duane, the reason I say "no" has got nothing to do with that bastard brother of yours sending you here either. It's to do with business. I can't keep meddling in the market.'

'I thought you controlled the market?'

'Oh, our little corner of it in Glenvale maybe,' Manny said grinding out his butt in the saucer of his coffee cup even though he'd only had a couple of puffs, 'but perception is reality. And if it's so bloody obvious that we're manipulating the drug market then no one will trust in it.' He shook his head then leaned back in his wheelie chair and put his feet up on a table so he could look up at the ceiling, 'Duane, trust is a fickle bloody thing. It takes a long time to build and only a second to destroy. I gave you Shorty to create stability in the market. But if I give you anyone else as well, it'll recreate that instability. Everyone'll know we're taking the piss.'

I shook the dust out of my flowing locks. 'No, everyone'll know I'm taking the piss,' I said, 'no one'll know that you did jack. As far as the market's concerned, Glenvale's finest are just kicking off a legendary drug dealer bust-athon.'

Manny shook his head and chuckled. 'You think anyone's gonna buy that?'

'Why not? We're on the warpath. The boss wants results.'

The big sports agent stared at me for a minute before lighting another cigarette. 'Maybe I shoulda listened to your brother, you really are a fucking idiot after all,' he said blowing smoke at me.

'Then listen to him now,' I argued, 'he wants his own patch, give it to him. He'd be good for you. A real earner.'

Manny looked at me for a moment then half-turned to Thor. 'Hey, Pocahontas, why don't you go smoke a peace pipe somewhere else for a bit huh?'

The editor turned back angrily from his computer screen. 'But I'm not done yet!' he squeaked, 'don't you think stopping straight after you've started is just a tiny bit premature?'

Manny stared at him for a moment then suddenly he reached over and whacked Thor hard on the back of the head. 'Go on! Get out of here I said!'

Thor leapt out of his chair and backed off towards the door with terror in his eyes.

'Out! Get outta here!' Manny raged and started throwing tape cases after Thor as he scrabbled for the door handle and scrambled out into the corridor and to safety.

Manny sat there staring at the closed door breathing heavily for a few seconds then turned back to me. At first his face was still all red and furious-looking but then he forced a smile back onto it.

'All right, I'll hear you out. Who did you want?'

'Well, um... I was thinking of Smithy actually.'

'You want Smithy?' For a moment the sports agent stared at me open-mouthed in amazement then he threw his head back and laughed. And laughed.

I felt my cheeks go red but I wasn't going to give up easy. 'You gotta admit he's getting near to the end of his shelf life!' I shouted over his roaring, 'I mean, they've put in a revolving door for him over at the judiciary and he spends so much time under the knife, the hospital's thinking of naming a wing after him!'

Manny sat up again still chuckling. 'Oh, that's classic!' he said wiping his eyes, 'look, I appreciate the thought, Duane. But, let's face facts here. Smithy is my best client...' he pointed at the TV monitor where there was an image of Smithy's bare arse paused on screen where Thor had left it, '... and the guy has a huge following. If anything I believe he has the potential to earn even more for me now as a television celebrity.'

'Yeah, but how long will people want to keep watching him once he stops playing?'

Manny took a moment to look at me before he replied. 'Look, Duane. You've kicked me the ball and I guess it's only fair that I kick it back; I'm a player agent right? So part of my job is spotting the talent who I should invest my time and negotiation skills for. And I think it's fair to say that I have an excellent eye for talent, Duane. In fact, many is the time I've been able to pluck a player from obscurity – ' here Manny suddenly snatched an imaginary footy player out of the air, ' – and place him on the grand stage where he has... glittered in the limelight.' At this point Manny's voice went all soft and he wiggled his fat fingers gently as though magic fairy dust was fluttering off the imaginary footy player like dandruff in the warm summer breeze.

'You see, Duane,' he went on, 'this ability to discover talent – to see the future through a magic eye – is a skill I've developed over many years. And, let me tell you this,' here he leant forward and tapped me gently on my knee, 'my magic eye sees that same extraordinary talent in you, Duane,' he finished up with a wink and leant back nodding, his eyes moist and twinkling.

I wasn't sure if I was catching his drift. 'What? As a footy player?'

'No! I meant as a businessman!'

I shook the dust out of my flowing locks. 'But I ain't no businessman, Manny. I'm a cop.'

'I know you are,' Manny said patting my arm and smiling. Then he suddenly leaned forward all excited-looking, 'but you shouldn't let that hamstring the chance at a brilliant career! In fact, you could even use your vocation to your advantage – ' Then Manny suddenly stopped, leaned back on his chair and squinted at me as though I'd just told him that I really fancied his Nana. 'Some people go all funny when you say the word "monopoly" to them,' he said, 'you're not one of them are you, Duane?'

I wasn't sure what to make of this. So I shook my head slowly.

'Good,' Manny said leaning in close again, 'because "monopoly" isn't a dirty word. In fact, some industries suit a monopoly. I mean you don't see the World Bank competing with anyone now do you?'

Now I really had no idea what he was talking about so I just shrugged.

'Right, well my industry is one of those,' the player agent said warming into his work, 'we're similar to the above-the-line drug companies in that we have a lot of "expenses" like research, development and distribution networks to finance. This makes it impractical for us to have to compete with similar companies such as ours.

'The legit drug companies all have this shady system where they "sponsor" surgeons and nurses in hospitals so they can get a guaranteed supply line in return. And with this in place these companies can push the prices up of their pills to cover all their expenses, because they know they're going to get a guaranteed sale.

'Now, as a cop, I'm sure you're aware that we have many – competitors – around the city. You know who I'm talking about!' Manny suddenly laughed but his eyes were watching me keenly. 'And now what we need is people down at the station who we can sponsor in return for an improved supply chain through...' here Manny leant in close, '...elimination of our competitors' activity in Glenvale.' He chuckled, 'let's call it developing a "home ground advantage" shall we? Can you help me out here, Detective Mullett?'

I did know what he meant, or at least part of it. And I may be a lot of things, but I ain't no lackey to a goddamn drug lord. But telling one that to his face was another thing altogether, especially after I'd seen how he could lose his rag. Frankly, I was really deep in the shit now, and the only way out I could see was to try and get on this guy's side.

'Look, Manny,' I put on my best Friday Night Special smile, 'you want me to help you? Then let me take down the one guy who takes the piss out of you in public. Just say the word and I'm all over him.'

The sports agent took a moment to stub his cigarette out on Thor's desk then looked back at me. All the smiles of before had gone. 'Detective Mullett, I've got an edit to finish and I've wasted enough time already. You can leave now.'

And leave I did. Immediately.

~~~~

TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY

Ma was still up when I got round to her house. I could see the bright blue light of the TV screen through the ranch sliders from out on the street.

I let myself in through the front door and walked through into the lounge where I found her asleep on the couch in front of an ancient rerun of the Love Boat. I sat down on the sofa beside her and watched it for a few minutes but didn't recognise any of the half-assed stars of yesteryear they had on this episode.

I looked back at Ma who lay snoring on her side completely unaware that anyone else was in her house. Then I gently lifted her arm and slid in alongside her resting my head on her side and placed her arm back down around my shoulders. It felt really good here with Ma and it reminded me of a time when I had no worries and no responsibilities. When the world smelled all clean and fresh after the rain.

Ma must have recognised my smell because she stirred a little in her sleep and muttered. 'That's my little, Duaney...' through her gin haze.

Tomorrow I'd go and tell the boss I wouldn't go near Manuel Olivier again. And after that, I'd go and tell Brian I couldn't help him neither. Then I didn't know what I was going to say to my hippy chick Mandy, or Rachelle for that matter.

But they could all wait until tomorrow because tonight I just wanted to watch TV with Ma.

~~~~

The Black Hawk flapped his mighty wings once more and glanced back down at the figures on the dusty plain below. There seemed to be more than ever before down there firing up at him.

And while none yet had clipped the mighty Hawk's sleek black feathers, his broad wings were growing very tired and he longed now to rest back on the highest branch on the tallest tree on the plain. The Black Hawk let out an angry cry as a bullet whizzed past him so close it singed some of his tail feathers.

Would these pricks never leave?

~~~~

IN THROUGH THE CAT DOOR

The next morning me and Alex hadn't had much time to settle into the black leather armchairs the boss had in his office before he got stuck straight into it.

'Gentlemen, I have to admit I'm impressed with your recent successes. I can't say I approve of your methods, but I'm still impressed all the same.' He looked up to cock an eyebrow at us, 'how do you do it?'

It looked like he was expecting an answer so I thought I better give him one to keep the peace.

'I dunno.'

The boss looked less than stoked at my reply. 'I see.' He tried his luck with my partner, 'how about you, Alex? Got any gems with which to enlighten me?'

Alex just stuck his bottom lip out and shrugged.

'Right. Well, I better cancel the speaking tour of police colleges then,' the boss said shrugging himself, 'although here's a word of advice, you two may want to brush up on the English language a little in future,' he added eying us both up. 'You see, at least a cursory knowledge of it becomes quite necessary once you get further up the food chain. And the way you two have been going recently, it's not out of the question that I could be addressing Detective Inspectors Mullett and Szabo in my office in the not too distant future.'

Jeez! That was a bit of a turnaround! He'd been threatening us with the bum's rush only a few days ago. Many were the twists and turns scrambling up the Stairway to Heaven!

Meanwhile the boss was staring blatantly at us both to see how his anvil-heavy hint had gone down. I stole a glance at Alex. His face had gone all white at hearing this news.

The boss grew bored of waiting. 'So, bearing this in mind, I'd now like to hear your thoughts on how you're going to go after Manuel Olivier?'

Uh oh. Here we went. He hadn't forgotten about it overnight, the bastard! Now I had to go straight for Plan B; namely, delay things as much as possible.

I glanced at my partner but he was still looking pretty pale and had started nibbling on his fingers. I'd have to scoop up the glory it seemed.

'With baby steps, sir,' I announced.

'Yes, Frieda said you'd say something like that,' the boss muttered with a wry grin, 'our workload distribution manager is a very perceptive woman. And a very attractive one too,' he added, which gave me a bit of a surprise.

Oh ho! So the boss had finally come under the spell of our local hornbag goddess too! I'd have to file that one away for future use. 'I can't say that I've noticed, sir.'

'Yeah, sure,' the boss said his grin vanishing, 'now I think that maybe Frieda is right and "baby steps" as you call them, is the right approach to take with Mr. Olivier. At least, until we've managed to build a considerable case against him.'

Bastard! So it was all Frieda's idea was it? Who the hell was it that gave you an earful the last time I was in here then, eh?

Still, there wasn't much good likely to come out of pointing that out so I just gave him a grin instead. 'Yeah, Rome wasn't ruined in a day, eh.'

'Quite,' the boss agreed, 'so the next task for you two is to start gathering information on Mr. Olivier's criminal activities. And, going by his reputation around town, I'd say that there is quite a lot of it about.'

Yeah, sure. And there's a lot of rat poison on the supermarket shelves too, but it doesn't also mean you should start stuffing your face with it.

'Gentlemen, gentlemen!' the boss said with a chuckle, 'I can see by your faces that you think Manny is a formidible foe. But, look at what you have achieved already, just by applying yourselves to the task at hand. I'm sure that if you pursue Manny with the same zeal that you used to bring in Simon Heppentine or the Shell Service Station Raiders, you will have no problems whatsoever.'

He got no answer to his comment. At all.

'Very well,' the boss said with the beginnings of grouchiness creeping into his voice, 'you have been given your duty, now please go and fulfill it. I'll expect a report in a few days.'

And that was it. Our interview was over.

But outside his office, I was feeling pretty good. At least he wasn't wanting us to try slamming Manny over the hood of the Toyota straight away. 'Way hey, fella! Talk about a change of tune, eh? Eh?'

'I don't see what's so good about it,' Alex grumped.

'You know, you really are a fun guy to be around sometimes, partner.'

'Well, look at the hours he pulls!' Alex pointed back at the boss on the other side of the door, 'that'll be us too if we get promoted. Then what about Axl and the Missus? What about me band? What are they all gonna do if I have to start working late all the time?'

'Yeah, well there's that,' I said thinking about what Alex had just said as we started walking along the corridor away from the boss' office. He had a point I guess. If the boss got his way, we'd be expected to front up a lot more, spend less time in the pub during working hours and probably even think about snaffling crooks more than chicks. Which would be a bit of an adventure, but then there were upsides; 'but just think about all that extra ding you'll have, Alex. Imagine all the Strats you'll be able to buy with that. You'll be able to get yourself a proper car, buy better piss, rent a bigger house...' I grinned at him, 'put down bigger bets...'

'Piss off!' Alex said glowering at me like crazy.

'Okay, okay. Well, just do like the boss said and think it overf first before you guts-ache yourself to death over it.'

As we strolled out to the garage past Frieda's office, I saw the goddess herself was in attendence, pouring over an open file on her desk.

'Don't worry, I'll come back for you later,' I called into her office from the door, 'coz tonight's the night you get lucky, babe!'

Frieda didn't even look up. 'Why? Is there a contract out on you?'

I clucked my tongue and shook the dust out of my flowing locks. 'You say that now, but one day I'm sure you'll see what sort of lover I am.'

'Yes,' Frieda glanced up at me with a smirk, 'hopefully in a clear plastic bag marked "Exhibit A"!'

'You never give up, do you?' Alex sniggered at me as we wandered through the underground carpark toward the Toyota.

'That's right,' I agreed as I unlocked the tin can, 'I don't wanna die wondering.'

'Well, I s'pose it's paying off at last,' my partner muttered as he leaned back on the leopardskin once we were inside.

'Eh? Whaddya babbling about now?'

'Frieda, of course! She's got the hots for you big time,' Alex said yawning, 'she's always having a good gawk at your butt whenever your back is turned.'

My ears pricked up at this. 'Yeah? Does she? Really?'

Alex glanced back at me. 'Nah, I was just having ya on about that,' he said with a chuckle, 'everyone knows she hates your guts. Even you do too, ya bloody egg!'

Prick! I didn't know any such thing. But one thing I did know was that Alex and all the rest of them were just jealous. I'd seen that look in Frieda's eyes every now and then, and it said she was keen. So, one day! One day that ankle bracelet of hers would be rattling on her leg like a flag in the breeze...

But, in the meantime me and Alex had to work so I slammed the Toyota into gear and burnt off a bit of excess tyre rubber pulling out of my park and heading for the garage door.

As I squealed my way through the maze of concrete pillars in the basement garage I saw a figure sillouhetted up against the light glaring in through the exit opening. It was James-shaped and he was holding a palm up demanding that we stop, like he was some sort of angry lumberjack searching cars on the highway for a runaway daughter.

'Two cheeseburger combos with Cokes thanks, cock.' I said out the window as I screeched up to a stop next to him.

'And no squeezing your face onto the patties neither.' Alex chimed in.

Brown Sugar leant in the window to grin at me. 'I got something for ya,' he said.

'And?'

'You know that chick you like? Red hair? Furry armpits?'

What the..? Honestly, you couldn't take a dump in this town without someone handing you a roll of bogpaper the next time they saw you! But there wasn't much point in denying nothing so I just slammed an elbow into the smirking Alex's ribs and nodded back at the Brown Man.

'I know where she lives.'

'What makes you think I'd give a shit about learning that?'

James screwed his face up at me. 'She's a chick ain't she?'

I just shrugged and grinned at him. There just ain't no denying the truth if you're ever unlucky enough to stumble across it. Old Brown Sugar had me on toast. I hadn't decided for sure that I was in full snuffle mode after Mandy yet but hey, I didn't want to die wondering!

'How'd you find out I was keen on her in particular?' I asked super innocently.

If ever there was any doubt who'd been the snitch, James put paid to it by looking past me to give Alex a none-too-subtle wink as he said; 'Oh, I just keep my ear to the ground, eh.'

'My partner groaned. 'Nice one, Brownie!'

I turned to glare at Alex before looking back at Mr. Secret Squirrel. 'Okay, fella, cough up your news.'

James then told me he'd seen Mandy riding her pushbike out to a housetruck on the edge of town. And that this particular housetruck was parked up on a spot of land that even the neighbours were hazy as to whether it was a highway rest area or a forest access road. Which also seemed to point to why she'd been able to get away with camping there for a while now without getting a boot in the rear bumper from the local county parking Nazis.

I figured it must be a fair ride for her on her bike to get into the market from all the way out there, far enough to probably tempt even the sternest critic of Industrialist Capitalism into flagging down a passing combustion-driven vehicle. But not my Mandy, which was a true testament to her steel-solid commitment to the cause, whatever that was.

I felt my lust for her harden as I realised we had something in common, aside from my obsession with her, and it was that we were both focussed on our individual goals. Her with her determination to be a genuine nature-loving hippy, and me with being a genuine chick-loving root machine.

James grinned as he saw me smirking to myself and started whistling Love is in the Air.

It was time to pay the Ferryman. 'What do I owe ya for that?' I asked.

My colleague just winked back. 'Oh, I ain't like that,' he said, 'but, if you ever get tired of that legendary porno collection you got stashed under your bed, I just want you to know that I've got some reading glasses at home.'

'Sure, man,' I said with a wink, 'watch out for plain paper parcels in the mail,' and dropped the clutch for effect, grabbing phat air as the Toyota flew up and over the exit judder bar and landed hard out on the open road.

I glanced back at Brown Sugar in the rear view mirror and saw him standing in the gateway behind us nodding in appreciation of my antics. Alex meanwhile had his head back on the passenger seat almost at right angles from the acceleration like someone had glued the top of his skull to the leopardskin. 'Jeez! You're kidding me! You'd never let me look into any of that!' he said as he straightened up and shook out the cricks in his neck my driving had given him.

'That's coz you ain't never earned it,' I chuckled in reply as I overtook a bus to beat a red light, 'but meanwhile my good brown buddy has opened up the cat door just enough for me to sneak in and steal a hippy chick's heart!'

~~~~

LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS

Now, as marvellous a tonic drugs are for us all here in Glenvale, strangely enough some people still didn't like them.

This was probably because the tale of drug-taking here is a pretty simple one; the hero characters usually start off on their journey with jokes and laughs then, after a few strange adventures along the way, they almost always wind up in a land of tears and death. And one person who'd seen just too many of her mates head off on one of these jaunts and never come back, was a woman called Pearl.

A well-known dress for sale down at the Carlsfield docks, Pearl was getting a bit long in the tooth now so was known by a few handles like; "The Seaside Last Resort" or "The Little Merhag", and it was said that only the Bermuda Triangle had swallowed more seamen than her. But what made her super useful to me was her hatred of drugs and their associated distributors plus the fact that she was the only independent dockside operator left in this sad world of franchised prostitution that we now live in.

This meant that she could say and do whatever she liked without having to spout any slogans for this brothel or that drug dealer. How she'd managed to keep herself clear of some of the nefarious characters that lurked about the wharf area was beyond me. I guess she must have held a few knives to a few Nanas' throats at some stage in order to keep so many sets of greasy fingers off her purse for so long.

She'd also seen too many of her mates and clients set off on a drug adventure and not come back over the years to get too excited about a new dealer moving into the neighbourhood. So I'd aimed the Toyota in the direction of her grimy digs in the hope of scooping up some dirt on Manny for the boss', as yet, fairly empty file on the guy. Although, keeping my brother Brian's crafty plan in mind, I'd be taking the roundabout route of focussing her attention on Manny's celebrity sidekick, Smithy.

Now, running your own business in prostitution is easy enough when you're young. But she gets a bit tough once you get onto the shady side of 55, when even the friendliest of dark corners can't hide the gruesome details of a life hard lived. It forces you into diversifying your skills in order to keep the great unwashed coming through the shop door.

But old Pearl is craftier than most. She'd come up with an absolutely genius scheme where she'd pop into all the motels and flophouses around the wharves area and write her cellphone number in the front of all the Gideon Bibles that the God-botherers had dropped by to stash in every room.

She'd figured that the only people ever likely to crack open one of those books were folks desperate for company, or those stray lambs trying to forget the last hooker they'd visited on the street. Which left old Pearl free to scoop up either, for just a clip of the ticket for the old couple without a retirement plan who always seemed to be running these tired old joints.

But Pearl had also diversified into the information game a little as well which was how I'd managed to meet her in the first place.

Like I've already said, back in me and Alex's blissfully idle days, we'd track down the occasional runaway teen – if the price was right. But it was never really as hard as it sounds as all we had to do was drive straight down to the wharves. Because nine times out of ten, that was where these young chicks would run to. And ten times out of ten, Pearl would know about it.

And being the superb judge of character that she is, Pearl'd be able to sum up the chick in a flash. Then she'd either give us the nod, to let the girl play on in the game, or the wink, that we should pack her off kicking and screaming back to her Mama. All for a taste of the reward of course.

Normally you could find Pearl in one of a handful of places at this time of day but it only took us the time to look around a couple before I spotted her high hairstyle poking up over a booth wall in a grotty dive called "Sweet Pea's".

Me and Alex then wandered straight over, although we did slow a little once we saw Pearl was parked up in the booth with a client. An old man by the looks of him. And I even lost my stride a bit once I got close enough to see she was fixing him a milkshake right there on the seat.

'Duaney, hon! Alex! What the fuck are you's doing down here?' Pearl shouted looking up from her work.

'Just thought we'd drift by,' I muttered as I took in the old fella's gasping face and froth-flecked mouth. He added a glare to his pose once he saw me and Alex get closer and tried to scuttle off before being stopped by a strong and gnarly hand.

'Where the fuck d'you think you're going?' Pearl demanded.

The old fella looked all sheepish. 'You got company – '

'Not paying they ain't! So stay right where ya are, sailor,' she said shoving him back on the cushion. 'I got an eleven o'clock booking coming up which I ain't breaking for no bastard so let's quit pissing about, shall we?' With that she went back to giving the old fella his milkshake.

Me and Alex both tried not to watch. 'We got a tip that our local sporting legend, Smithy's been pinching booze from down here,' I said admiring the old and threadbare carpet.

Pearl snorted as she worked. 'Oh wow! You guys are real onto it. He's only being doing that for a coupla years now. What amazing insight are ya gonna tell me next? That Christian ministers are the dirtiest bastards of all?'

'So I'm after a bit of a heads up on where he's likely to strike next,' I said ignoring her abuse as I inspected the filthy yellow smoke-stained ceiling, 'to try and snaffle him in action.'

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Pearl shaking her head in disgust. 'Fucking amateurs!' she muttered.

'What do ya mean by that?' I asked glancing back at her and copping an eyeful of the old fella getting back to where he was before I barged in, with his mouth hanging open and his drool starting to froth up again. Alex had had enough. He went and sat down on another seat with his back to us all so he didn't have to watch.

'You don't honestly expect me to cough up shit like that, do ya?' the old prostitute sneered up at me.

'Why not? Are you sweet on him or something?'

'Piss off!'

'Then give him up then!'

'Why the fuck should I? What's in it for me?'

I figured this would be the way it would go. Old Pearl was probably the most mercenary person I'd ever met, she'd do anything for a buck – and twice for two. But I also knew that, over the years, Smithy and his football star mates had got a few teenage girls pregnant and that some of those girls had ended up on Pearl's turf – and on the game.

So while Pearl was wise enough to know that the world didn't give a shit about any of those girls, I also knew that it still pissed her off. And that she wouldn't draw the curtains if Smithy was being tortured outside her bedroom window. Anyway, I hoped I was right because I didn't have nothing else to offer.

'Smithy with his pants down, spinning around on a gear stick.'

Pearl laughed out loud. 'Oh bullshit! Who's gonna do that, huh? You and whose army?'

'We've gotta take him down, Pearl. It's the word from up high and we're not allowed to stop.'

'Fucking dreamers!' The old fella had quit drooling long enough to add his two cents' worth.

'Oi! Who pulled your cork?' Pearl snapped at him. She must have given him a bit of a squeeze too because he suddenly yelped and hunched over breathing hard. 'Just keep ya mind on the job at hand,' she went on, 'I ain't sitting here getting RSI for nothing!' with that she started up her business again and the old fella leaned back on the booth cushion and looked away from me. I wasn't unhappy about that.

'You're a sweet boy, Duane,' Pearl was saying to me, 'but you're so full of shit. Your lot couldn't take down a whore's drawers if she undid the string for ya!' then she stopped and gave me a sly smile, 'well, maybe you could, but you'll never get Smithy. Oh, I know he's a moron! In fact, he's such an idiot it's a wonder he can piss straight. But he's also as safe as a scoutmaster in jail coz he's got too many people with their dicks up his arse to let him fall too far. And they're the ones you gotta watch out for.' She eyed me up. 'Come on, Duane! Do you think I haven't thought about dealing to that prick? It just can't be done. My advice would be to flag this shit job and walk away while you got a chance, Duane. Go home, drink piss and chase girls. It's what you're good at.'

I heard what she was saying but something inside was making me shake the dust out of my flowing locks. 'I can't do that.'

'I said, I like ya, kid. Stay away and stay alive.'

Again, I shook my head. 'We really need your help, Pearl.'

'Then you're fucked aren't ya!' the Bermuda Triangle wasn't smiling at me anymore. 'Go on! Get outta here! Now!'

As me and Alex walked out back along the parquet hallway, I tried not to hear the old fella groaning and whimpering behind me.

Back in the Toyota I realised I wasn't really much wiser for the experience, aside from learning that old fellas have needs that have to be seen to as well. That was probably facts enough for me to absorb for one day, I didn't want to go triggering off a brain explosion from trying to take in too much at once. I might have to start writing things down so I could remember them and then, before you know it, the boss'd have me strapped in behind a desk. Which would put a bit of a muzzle on my chick hunting skills that's for sure –

'So, what next?' Alex broke in on my golden thoughts.

'I dunno,' I shrugged in reply, 'Pearl's the key. She knows the where and when, I just need to get her to start spilling in our direction and we're done and dusted.' I glanced back at the bordello, 'I could try going back and talking to her tomorrow I guess. She wouldn't wanna see me again today.'

'Nah,' Alex agreed, 'she's got that eleven o'clocker, remember.'

Yeah, Pearl was busy. And I ought to be getting busy too chasing down that other fact I'd learned this busy morning, and that was the home locale of one saucy hippy chick called Mandy. Especially seeing as I was still more or less in the dogbox with Rachelle. As usual.

Goddamn that boss of ours! He was developing a real nasty habit of dishing us up work whenever I had just scored a hot lead for anything –

'So, I s'pose you wanna go snuffling around after that hippie chick now do ya?' Alex asked giving me a bit of a glare.

Prick! He knew me too well. Still, it was probably worth a shot. 'Yeah,' I said with a shrug, 'I was thinking about it. You mind?'

'Nah,' my partner said with a sigh, 'we ain't doing nothing else so why not? Just as long as I don't have to listen to you two shagging in the back seat, it'll be fine.'

'Just go into your cone of silence and you'll be sweet,' I said with a wink.

'Yeah,' Alex grinned back, 'I ought to be able to keep that up for thirty seconds or so, prem boy.'

I gave him the finger then slammed the Toyota into gear...

But before I headed us out to my hippie chick's far distant love lair, I swung that fat Webby's crap courtesy car by a bottle store in order to scoop her up a prezzie.

You see, years of training in the dark arts of chick-hunting had taught me the power of gifts. It's been my experience that no matter how anti-capitalistic a chick is, she'll turn a blind eye to her beliefs once she spots material goods wrapped in coloured paper headed her way. It's no guarantee you'll get any reward in return but it sure frees up the ice-breaker from the frozen Antarctic Sea. The trick was in finding something that suggested that you'd been thinking of her in particular rather than looking like you'd just spat out an industry standard.

In this case, I figured the prezzie ought to be something that immediately shouted out; "thanks for rescuing me from the clutches of that crazed gun-toting Indian shopkeeper, Sanjay Patel" although, obviously not in so many words. And, as I hadn't been out with a hippy chick before so I wasn't up with the play as to what they were into, aside from tea of course. But seeing as I didn't know which end of a teapot to drink out of, I was just loosening off the belt needlessly by going down that route. The same went for soaps and flowers and I wasn't even sure if vegetarians ate chocolates or whether they saw them as fruit of the Devil.

So that only left booze. And as Mandy didn't really look like the type who'd be keen for a round or two of shooters or to knock back a few beers, she might be into some grape juice. The trouble was, I didn't know nothing about wine, not having been drunk on it since I was a little kid.

Soon Ok did though. She was a chick of Korean descent, aged somewhere between 25 and 55, who ran my regular booze shop in Prescott. She'd taken over from a couple of older gay guys who'd owned the place for years, but then suddenly one day they'd both just disappeared without a trace. I'd been tempted to chase this up at the time, in order to find out exactly what had gone on, but then an old girlfriend had breezed into town and I'd got sidetracked...

Anyway, Soon Ok held the fort now and she was stocking up the shelves with vodka when I wandered in with my partner Alex. 'Hey, Duane. What it gonna be today? Jack or Jim?'

I grinned. 'Neither, babe. I'm here for some wine.'

Soon Ok pretended to be super amazed and grabbed at her heart like she was having an attack. 'Who are you? What you do with Duane I know?'

'Yeah, yeah. Real funny.'

'You want wine huh?' Soon Ok asked eying me suspiciously, 'then we better go wine section. But mind your step. You don't know way. I don't want you fall over before you start drink.'

Me and Alex followed her over into a dark and dusty section of the shop filled with racks and racks of the same shaped bottles. It didn't look like many people ever came in here and it smelled all musty and damp.

'There are many type of wine.'

'I reckon!' Alex said looking at them all, "how do you decide on one?'

'It not so hard,' Soon told him waving her hands at all the bottles, 'first thing is find out if you want red or white.'

Eh? What was she babbling on about? Most of the bottles were green and they had all sorts of colours on the labels.

Maybe they were colour coded as to price and Soon was worried I was going to spend too much money. But, stuff it! I didn't care, I was going to go all out for this one. I pointed at a bottle that I liked the look of.

'How about that black one?'

Soon Ok shook her head. 'What you have for dinner?'

'Eh? Oh, I think it was steak. Sorry, I didn't even know I'd farted.'

'No! What you have for dinner with chick?'

'Shit, I dunno. I haven't thought that far ahead.'

Soon Ok thought for a moment. 'She vege?'

I didn't know the answer to that so I glanced over at the bodyhair expert who stood near me. Alex stuck out his bottom lip and nodded slowly in great wisdom.

I turned back to Soon Ok. 'Yeah, probably. She's a hippy.'

The bottlestore manager nodded. 'Then you want white. White go with vege,' she picked out a green bottle with a yellow label and showed me it, 'this white wine.'

I looked closely at the label which said something like: "Sauvignon Blanc". Christ! I hoped I didn't have to pronounce it!

Soon cocked an eyebrow at me. 'You drink too?'

'Yeah, maybe I will.'

'Then forget that. It girly wee,' she put the bottle back and twiddled her fingers over some others like she was casting a spell over them, then suddenly grabbed a different bottle off the shelf and gave it to me.

'Chardonnay...' I said reading the label.

Soon Ok looked pleased. 'Good! You like that better I think.'

I nodded. 'Yeah, I can say that one,' I handed it back to her, 'wrap it up, babe.'

'Sure,' Soon shook open a paper bag and slipped the bottle inside, 'you want anything else? Kimchi? This one very cheap.'

'Nah, I still got plenty of that. I could use some more soju though.'

Alex shook his head and rolled his eyes at this and Soon Ok smiled to him as she grabbed a sixpack of the Korean firewater off the counter and popped it into the bag with the Chardonnay. 'You skull too much, Duane! Wine be good for you. Teach you manners for drink.'

'Yeah, okay...' I said, 'so you just knock this wine stuff back straight eh? No ice, no mixers?'

Soon nodded. 'Just pour into glass and little sip every few minute,' she demonstrated for me with a pretend glass, holding her pinkie out.

'Gotcha. Piece of piss.'

I handed her fifty bucks and Soon Ok started punching numbers into her old-fashioned till. '3, 4, 4, 9 and 5, oh, make 1, 5, 5, 1...' the drawer slammed open and she took out my change and gave it to me along with my booze, 'there you go, Duane stud, have good night. And remember! Always little sip.'

~~~~

GETTING A BEAD ON THE LOVE FREAKS

The house truck was pretty much exactly where James had described it, a bit down a dirt track off a highway rest stop siding. There was nothing around nearby except for heaps of birds, trees and wild creatures. It was an absolute hellhole of Nature with no McDonald's, no pubs, no nothing for miles on end. Jeez! My Mandy was the real thing! She was doing it ultra tough out here scrapping it out with the rabbits for a nibble of grass.

I tossed the Toyota into the siding and set out on foot carrying my wine bottle under the arm leaving Alex behind to dust off the backseat for me.

The house truck itself was actually an old suburban bus I saw as I got closer, and it hadn't been moved for a while going by the grass growing up and around it. Somebody had painted a whole lot of flowers all over it once, but they'd virtually all been covered by rust now. Mandy was up on the roof of the bus fiddling around with a cardboard box, her caftan and red bandana looking bright and colourful in the morning sun.

'Hey, Mandy!' I called out once I got close to the bus.

Then I stepped back in shock as I realised that it wasn't Mandy up on the roof. She may have hairy armpits but I sure didn't remember her having a moustache as well!

'Mandy's not here, man. She'll be back later.'

Looking up at the guy I could now see he was quite a bit older than Mandy, and with the moustache and bandana he actually looked a lot like Hulk Hogan.

Just at this point I heard a growling and a scrabbling in a big cardboard box sitting next to the bus. What the hell was that?

I stepped over and peered into the open box only to see a pair of dark eyes peering out of a great mass of matted white fur back at me. And it was a look that spoke with no love for humankind. The stink of urine coming out of the box was so strong it made my eyes water.

'That's Mandy's ferret, Boris,' Hulk Hogan Jnr said as he climbed down the side of the bus to stand next to me, 'I dunno why she had to have one of them as a pet. Personally, I'd love to wring the damn thing's neck.'

Now that didn't sound like hippy talk! I squinted at him. 'So, who are you, Smiley? Mandy's friend?'

The hippy smirked back at me. 'I live with her, man. Out here in the forest, it's beautiful way of life.'

Up this close I could see that, like Hulk Hogan, the bandana he wore was to cover the severe balding that was going on underneath.

And Mandy lived with this guy? And had that – thing – as a pet?

No wonder she had to hide out here in the country, I thought to myself and for the first time felt my excitement for her slipping away like a teen whore in the night.

'Hey, man. What do you want to see her for?' the hippy was asking me with more than a hint of rark as he gazed at my wine bottle-shaped paper bag with suspicious eyes.

'Oh, she told me all about you and her living out here,' I started up, my guts filling up with acid, 'and I was in the area so I just popped over to see for myself.'

The hippy perked up at this. 'Yeah, man. The life of a free spirit. I fucking love it. And, oh man, that housetruck,' he nudged me in the ribs, 'it's the best two hundred bucks I ever spent. The chicks! I dunno what it is about it but it drives them wild! They're always crawling all over each other to go riding with me in that. So I just test 'em all out in the back then pick out the best of the bunch for a tour of duty. Then, when I get sick of her, I just give her the flick and get another one to climb on board. Hoo wah! This one,' he jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the housetruck where Mandy lived, 'she's so sweet! She even thanks me for doing her. Hoo hoo!'

It took me a moment or two to think of a response to his comments that didn't centre around violence. But I got there in the end.

'Hey fella, that looks like an outta date rego sticker on the windscreen there.' I said flipping out the badge for him to think about and pointing at the housetruck.

The hippy stared open-mouthed at me. 'Eh? You're kidding right? I'm not on the road.'

'Yeah, but you must have been at some stage, unless you flew here on a magic fucking carpet ride.'

Now he was shaking his sharktooth earrings. "What's your problem, man?'

'I ain't got no problem. You're the one with the problem, fuckjaw.'

Bandana Boy squinted at me. 'Oh man, I don't believe it!' he said chuckling, 'you're sweet on my little Mandy aren't you! That's what this is all about isn't it!'

'You know, I don't think I can turn a blind eye to this blatant piss-take of the law,' I said pulling my ticket book out of my back pocket and brushing the dust off it.

But the hippy wasn't listening to me. 'You're wasting your time, pig-boy,' he went on, 'because you can't have her. She doesn't want your boring strait-laced world, she wants to be free with me.'

He leered at me so close my knuckles itched. 'Just think of me tonight while you're lying in bed with that dead bitch wife of yours, Mr. Suburbia. I'll be having a sweet time with that horny young pussy in there screaming: "Yeah, yeah! More! Give it to me you big dirty bastard! Harder! Harder!"' Bandana Boy started pretending to be giving it to my Hippy Chick from behind while winking and grinning at me at the same time.

'I see you ain't got no warrant neither.'

'And no money to pay for tickets,' he replied with a sneer, 'so I guess you'll just have to throw me in jail, Mr. Piggy Wig.'

'Hey, there's no need to beg me, fella,' I said, 'the wheels are already in motion. I'll get them to hose out a cell ready for you as soon as I get back.' Now it was my turn to give him a wink, 'then we'll see how far your goddamn pansy non-violence gets you up in Stoneleigh. I'm sure the Gofgosky brothers will be real understanding. I've heard they'll even use a condom in the shower if you ask them nicely.'

The hippy's eyes widened at this. 'Hey! You can't scare me! Ryan O'Grady pro bonos for our collective. He'll eat your guys for breakfast.'

'Good. Well, I hope he does for your sake,' I said, 'I had to identify what was left of the last guy who bunked down with the brothers. Luckily for me the force hands out counselling vouchers like the Krshnas give away cookbooks.'

The hippy was quiet now. All the sneers had disappeared from his face and were replaced by looks of fear. I would've almost felt sorry for him if he wasn't such a prick.

'Fuck you, man...' was his only reply.

'No, I think it's more likely to be "fuck you",' I said scribbling in my ticket book, 'at least, that's how it usually goes up at Stoneleigh,' I added tearing out the tickets and popping them under the housetruck's windscreen wipers with a snap. 'So unless you get off that paisley butt and find yourself a real man's job, the next time we see each other will probably be in court. I'll be the one with a big smile.'

Then I showed him what it looked like so he could recognise it later.

But once I'd got back to the Toyota, I tore up the ticket stubs and threw them into the back seat. They'd do me more favours cushioning the knees during my next backseat binge with Rachelle should she rejoin the pack again, than they would unlocking any cell door for Hulk Hogan Jnr.

Alex made a big show of looking around for Mandy. 'Where's your chick?'

'Don't ask,' I muttered firing up the Toyota and dropping the clutch, 'I think I just spoke to her goddamn father in there!'

My partner was surprised. 'Yeah? What the hell's he doing out here?' he glanced back at the housetruck before it disappeared in the rear window as we squealed out onto the open road, 'teaching her how to drive?'

I didn't feel like talking about it anymore so I craftily turned the conversation around to something I knew Alex loved talking about. 'Yeah, but isn't that what you parents are s'posed to do though? You're teaching your boy to drive ain't ya?'

'Yeah,' Alex turned back and his eyes glazed over, 'I've been giving him some lessons in the truck. It's not ideal really, but it's all I've got...'

Bingo! I had my partner and his inane yabber off my back for a while. Now I had a chance to actually think straight and try and figure out what the hell was going on with that crazy mixed-up hippy chick Mandy. And that goddamned "boyfriend" of hers!

'...sure, parallel parking's a real mission in a vehicle that big. And so are hill starts. But, like I say, if he can learn to do it all in a five ton truck, he can do it in anything...'

I'd love to bust Bandana Man for something but I may as well wish for a Penthouse photographer's job while I was at it. What the prick had said was right of course; O'Grady would eat our guys for breakfast. I'd heard of him before and the word was to ignore the kafkan and the dope-smelling fingers, O'Grady was a bona fide legal combine harvester who chewed lawyers up and spat them out all chopped up and tied up tight in a bundle with string.

'...actually I was supposed to give Axl a lesson yesterday but he didn't show. I think he was over at Jono's place...'

I'd even heard a whisper that if you came up against O'Grady in the courtroom you'd do best to run up the white flag straightaway and take your medicine while you still only had just the one arsehole. He was only slumming it with the hippies probably because, like my bandana-clad buddy, he had a thing for young chicks who didn't like shaving their armpits.

'...he's been acting real weird with me at the moment...

Mind you, it wasn't that our guys weren't any decent yardstick to measure how hot O'Grady was in a wig. A kindergarten kangaroo court would give them a decent workout they were so crap. It seemed to be that if you were found to be useless in a city courtroom you slipped through the cracks westwards into the Glenvale circuit. Then you spent the rest of your time divided up equally into squabbling over who should have the yellow coffee mug at smoko time and losing in court.

'...the Missus isn't worried though. She says that's what teenage boys are s'posed to do. You know, be real sulky and annoying all the time...'

What that meant for us fellas at the coalface was that we had even less reason to bother busting anybody and all the more reason for chasing up our "preventative" style of policing. At least that's what we told ourselves anyway.

'...she reckons we've got off light with him so far, but I dunno...'

I accelerated past a truck as we raced back towards the squealing streets of home. Hippies! How the hell were you supposed to work them out? I was sure Mandy'd given me the come on and yet here she was living with this prick – who was old enough to be her goddamn grandfather!

'...he's definitely being weird with me at the moment...'

What did it all mean? Was I supposed to keep chasing her and shoulder this turkey out of the way? Or was I supposed to turn on my heel and walk away from her?

'...you know, he hasn't shown me any licks for a few days now. None at all...'

I had no idea what the protocol was here really. Glenvale lore decreed that you weren't allowed to outright swipe a chick from under a fella, but you were allowed to try and tempt her away. At least until you got your lights punched out for your trouble.

'...usually when he gets shitty at me, it's only for a day or so. But this has been since Friday...'

But if you did manage to get the chick to drape her knickers over your lightshade then you'd won the race and it was her ex-old man's turn to stand outside the bedroom window dangling his carrot.

'...you know what? I betcha he's slutted that I couldn't make it to his final...'

Though, as far as Hippy lore went, I had no idea. In fact, I didn't even know if they had any. For all I knew, they all just sprinted off to boil up some more mung beans whenever it was time to crack out some firm decisions.

'...I told him why I couldn't go! And he said it was okay at the time... '

The hard facts were that a hippy chick had kissed me while she was supposedly still with her bandana-bound boyfriend. Now, if she'd been a normal Glenvale chick like Rachelle kissing me like that, I'd know straight away she meant "peel me jeans off now!"

'...but I should never have done that gig!...'

But it sure didn't seem to be the same with this crowd. They had a whole different set of values that seemed as clear as mud to me.

'...I've let him down, that's what I've done...'

Who knew what was going on? Maybe this Mandy had developed a sudden urge to chow down on a stack of Big Macs but didn't know how to skip clear of her vege-head boyfriend's clutches karma-free. And her kissing me was a way of making a cry for help.

'...poor little Axl! He makes the final of the Battle of the Bands, and his lousy father doesn't even come along to see him play. What a bastard!...'

Or maybe my sweet little golden-thatched girl was just living the hippy dream and loving the whole world at once. And her kiss on my cheek may as well have been birdshit in the wind for all I meant to her –

'What have I done, Duane?' My golden thoughts were rudely interrupted by an ugly mug in the passenger seat squawking in my ear, 'what the hell have I done?'

'What?' I shouted back at him, 'what the hell have you done?'

'Here,' Alex shouted, scrabbling at my sleeve, 'let me out! I wanna go see my kid!'

'Are you nuts? We're nowhere near home yet!' And we weren't. I'd only got us back as far as the wharf district yet.

'I've been a lousy father and a selfish prick and so I gotta go set things right. See ya later!'

With that, Alex reached for the passenger door handle and pulled it hard.

~~~~

RUN, RUN, RUN

Alex didn't even wait for the lights before he wrenched open the passenger door and jumped out. I saw him going too late and slammed on the brakes.

'Jesus! You crazy bastard!'

Then I saw him rolling along the road in the same direction as my slide parallel with the Toyota. Without pausing he regathered his balance and footing and sprinted off all the one movement. It truly was a thing of beauty.

'Alex!' I yelled out the window, 'where are ya going, ya idjit?'

But he wasn't listening and raced off around a corner. I couldn't follow after him immediately as I'd overshot it and had become hemmed in traffic that was honking loudly at me wanting to know why I'd stopped in the middle of the road. I cursed them all, and Alex, and floored it out of the snarl and up onto the footpath. Weaving my way in and out of parked cars I searched for another left turn. Finally I found one and squealed my way round narrowly missing collecting the front of a delivery truck as I cut him off. I was greeted with another blast on the horn but I didn't care, it was becoming background muzak to me already.

I found another left hand turn and screeched around it with my eyes peeled. I couldn't see him. I quickly thundered along to the end of the street and looked all round but he was nowhere in sight. Jeez! I'd lost him already! Just as well I was in an unmarked car or else the whole neighbourhood would be out on the pavement pointing and laughing at me.

Shit! Where would he go from here? Think, Duane!

The last thing I'd remembered him babbling was about Axl, but his boy wouldn't be anywhere around here and surely Alex couldn't run all the way home or to Axl's school. Guvvy's wasn't too far away though and Alex always went there. Maybe he'd go to Guvvy's to borrow Oscar's van or to drown his sorrows.

That sounded like a plan so I pointed the Toyota's nose toward Alex's favourite watering hole and dropped the clutch...

*

Oscar had no idea what I was babbling about. 'Nah, I ain't seen him eh. You want Jack or Jim?'

'Neither, numbnuts! I just told ya, I'm after Alex, ya moron!'

The Guvvy's barman shook his filthy mane and chuckled. 'You're such a charmer, Duane! It's no wonder the chicks are always scrabbling at your bedroom door! I already said I dunno where he is, so what do I do next? Punch it out in Braille for ya?'

There was nothing left for me to do but go back out to the car and carry on my search. Dammit! I was confused. Where the hell had he gone if he didn't come here?

Poor old Alex! Like I've said before, my partner was good at a lot of stuff but he was crap useless at a lot of other things too. And that included surviving life in general quite frankly. If I wasn't around to watch over him then he was quite capable of stuffing things up to the max. Especially seeing as he'd been super pre-occupied with fretting about his son. Which was all my fault too...

Outside, the afternoon sun shone down hard on my swede as I scoped the street just in case Alex had chosen this moment to come puffing up. Where was the goddamn bastard?

I walked toward the Toyota – and froze in my step, because there was someone already sitting in the passenger seat. Alex! That's where he'd got to. The prick must have used his nefarious skills to break in. I stormed over ready to punch his lights out when I suddenly lost my stride again. There was someone in my car all right, but it wasn't Alex.

'Hiya, Pearl.'

I opened the driver door and sat down next to the old prostitute. She was busy looking out through the windscreen and didn't even glance at me. 'I've never been able to understand why they make so much bad TV,' she said as she stared out at people as they walked along the pavement past my car. 'It'd be different if all the TV people were just useless at their jobs coz then you could understand it. But if you've got good cameras, a director and wardrobe people all together in a studio, why would you then deliberately go and waste perfectly good film on a dickhead like Smithy?'

It was a fair question but I also had a real strong feeling that Pearl hadn't come all the way out here just to ask me that, so I just kept my gob slammed and shrugged as a reply.

'You see, in my line of work I never short-changed anybody,' Pearl went on still looking out the windscreen, 'I always made sure I gave the full premium service to everyone and that every customer left satisfied, even if I didn't like them personally. I still do now, even if they're not a regular. And I do it because I have pride in my work.'

'I guess that's why you're still in business after all these years.'

Pearl snorted. 'Yeah, but they've been making TV for a hell of a lot longer than I've been servicing cocks.'

I couldn't resist that one. 'Now, are you sure about that, Pearl? They've only been broadcasting since the 1920s!' I said with a wink.

The old hooker turned to glare at me. 'You better watch that mouth of yours or it could bring on something far nastier than anything I've ever had to put up with.'

It looked like Pearl wasn't really in the mood for slapping her thigh at my wit so I thought I better ease up on her for a bit. 'So, have you changed your mind about Smithy then?'

'Maybe I have. But first, tell me why you want to take him down so much. Did he fuck one of your girlfriends?'

'Nah. Well, not that I know of anyway.'

Pearl squinted at me. 'And you're only after Smithy aren't you?' It wasn't really a question, more an order. 'Manny Olivier's got nothing to do with these booze robberies, you know that eh?'

Jeez! she was sharp. I'd better watch myself here, so I just stuck out my bottom lip and shrugged.

'All right,' the Bermuda Triangle sighed, 'have it your own way. The consignment Smithy's after is in Shed 24C, Wilcox Wharf. I don't know when they're planning to hit it but the Dipper's next nightshift starts Wednesday night so it's likely to be from then on.'

I knew what she meant. Don "The Big Dipper" Dell was one of the nightwatchmen on Wilcox Wharf – and a union official – so naturally, he was as dirty as they come. If anything was going to get nicked, you could bet your kidneys it'd be while the Dipper's vigilant eye was on his bribe envelope.

Pearl was looking worriedly at me. She reached out and stroked my face like a mother would her ten year old son before he was about to lose his virginity. 'Watch out for Manny, Duane.' Pearl went on, 'oh yeah sure, he's all nice and smiley on the outside, but inside he's developing into a real nasty piece of work... hang on, is that someone you know?'

I followed her gaze and my heart sank into my boots to see Rachelle standing there on the pavement gaping open-mouthed at me sitting in my car with another chick.

Oh man! I wrenched open the car door and hared off after Rachelle who was keeping herself real busy by running away from me. Luckily for me, she was wearing high heels so I was able to catch up with her pretty easily.

'Babe! Babe! Wait up!' I caught her elbow and dragged her to a stop.

'Sorry, I didn't mean to bust in on you like that when you're obviously busy,' the spunkrat was looking in every direction except mine, 'I don't wanna cramp your style so I'll just get outta ya hair now.'

I wondered if I should try and cuddle her here on the street to show her that everything was okay. Then I remembered that I lived in Glenvale so I just grinned instead. 'What are ya talking about, babe?'

Rachelle finally looked at me. Not happily, I have to say. 'The whore in your car, Duane. Who did you think I was talking about?'

'Now don't go all silly on me! That's just Pearl – '

The spunkrat windmilled her arm to break my grip on her elbow and took a step back. 'She's so slutty! And – and old!' The Glenvalians walking past on the pavement were giving us a wide berth now, I could just imagine they were all thinking one word: "Domestic". Not one of them looked our way even though Rachelle just about sycthed down a couple with her spinning arm.

'Oh, come on! Do you think I need to stoop to that?' I forced a chuckle out through gritted teeth. I could feel my face flushing up hot with the shame of it all but there was nowhere to go but through to the bitter end.

Rachelle was leaning back like a snake ready to strike and I was shocked to see there were tears in her eyes. 'Am I that revolting to you?' she snapped forward to spit out at me then took off down the street again, her high heels clattering on the cement.

This time I just watched her as she disappeared into the crowded street. I could have run after her again I guess, but a little voice inside me was saying; "let her go!" And saying that maybe I ought to be following Big Chief Raging Horn's lead and taking time out to have a few puffs on the peace pipe instead.

I thought about this as I walked away from Rachelle and back to the car. Maybe somewhere deep down inside of me I was getting sick of this song and dance routine that I always did with normal Glenvale chicks like Rachelle. Oh yeah, sure. They were hot and funny and usually sensational in the sack too. But it was all the saga that went with it that was wearing me down. First we'd fight, then we'd make up, and so on it would go, over and over again. And maybe that was why I'd started chasing after the forbidden golden fruit. To see if she was any different...

Maybe. But then again, who the hell knew what Mandy wanted? If she was content enough to shack up with some croaky old bludger in a circus tent at the side of the road, well maybe she was beyond any help I could give her.

Ah, jeez! It was all getting too tough for a simple soul like mine. Whatever happened to the old script of my life? At least I knew all the lines to that one!

By the time I got back to the Toyota, it was empty. I threw myself down on the leopardskin and sank my fingers into my eyeballs to help me calm down. Whatever was happening, it felt like I wasn't the one throwing the darts anymore – I was the dartboard. And I was keeping myself super busy dodging my face around trying desperately to help someone get their dart into my eye.

Jeez, how did it ever get to this?

I kickstarted the tin can, slammed it into gear and burnt off another inch of rubber merging hard with the traffic.

~~~~

THE COLLECTIVE DREAM

Okay, so Rachelle had charged off spitting tacks at me, I didn't know where my partner Alex was and the boss was still prodding me toward Manny who was ready to have me knocked off. Things weren't going so hot and maybe now would be a real good time to just take five and follow Big Chief Raging Horn over to the Riverside Market. Even if Mandy did already have a geriatric boyfriend and a piss-happy rodent as a pet, I wanted to know once and for all whether she really was keen. Or whether I ought to get scampering back along Rachelle's tracks with a rose between my teeth.

I'd just walked in through the double doors when I saw something that made me stop in my tracks.

What the – ? I was only on the first floor and yet here was a table covered in painted lightbulbs for sale. And that woman standing behind it with the brown hair and yellow tinted sunglasses sure wasn't Mandy. What gives?

'Hey, miss, are you minding the stall for someone?'

The tinted glasses turned to look me up and down. 'No. This is my stall. See anything you like here?'

I did actually and it wasn't on the tables. But a sense of loyalty forced me to cool off. 'Dunno yet. I only just got here,' I picked up one of the bulbs at the front to have a closer look. It had a swirly design on it just like my Mandy's! Except it wasn't quite as tidily done. This chick can't have spent as much time doing the old paint-by-numbers as a kid, 'you do these yourself?

'That's right,' she smiled back at me and it wasn't bad either. Dammit.

'Where'd you get the idea for doing that?'

'It came to me in a dream.'

Uh huh. Whatever you say, lady. 'Did you know there's a chick upstairs who's doing the same thing as you?'

The tinted glasses flashed at me with a flicker of suspicion. 'That's okay, it's a free country. There's no one to stop her.'

I nodded as though I believed this was good news, but then I said something a little different. 'Yeah, but as a matter of fact, I reckon she was doing it before you.'

The chick was fully onto me now and all friendliness had gone from her yellowed eyes. 'Hey, there's no ownership of ideas, dude. Everything comes from the same collective consciousness.'

Oh man! I'd heard it all now! 'Bullshit it does!' I said glaring at her, 'you can't tell me everyone in the world thought of such a fine machine as the 1974 Chrysler Valiant Regal 265 Hemi straight six, all at the same time!'

'Oo yuk!' she wrinkled up her nose at me. 'Cars! What is it with you people who want to poison the Earth with all your carbon monoxide?'

'Ha! I thought so!' I said warming into my work, 'the Crown fucking rests! You're talking complete shit. Face it, you just stole this idea off the chick on the second floor and – news flash – I bet your cosmic collective never saw this coming!'

With that, I bent down to grab the two front legs of her wooden display table and flipped the whole thing over with a jerk. All her lightbulbs with the stolen paint designs flew up into the air before raining down and smashing to pieces on the concrete floor. It was a thing of beauty.

The chick screamed blue murder. 'You fucking bastard!!!!'

'Hey!' I said, 'what do you care? I thought you said no one owned nothing?'

'Help! Help! Violence! He's a psycho!'

A crowd of hippies and shoppers were gathering on the fringes around us but I couldn't go just yet. 'Uh, wakey, wakey,' I said snapping my fingers in her face, 'welcome to the real world, babe.'

That would do. I'd done enough to learn her up for one day. I spun on my heel and walked away towards the door. As I hit the stairs I could hear a bunch of her mates following me, their loose cotton shirts flapping as they rushed after me.

Then, as I powered down the stairs, I thought to myself, what the hell am I running for? What are these guys ever going to do? So I turned at the bottom of the stairwell and waited for them to get a bit closer. And it didn't take long for them to round the last corner and come to a clumsy halt as they saw me standing there.

'Come on then! Who wants the glory? I'll take yiz all on!' I yelled and did a bit of a Muhummad Ali boxer dance. The front ones backed up a couple of stairs, their wild staring eyes bulging out of all that facial hair. There must have been about ten of them lined up there, but there wasn't one set of balls on display. Pussies!

I threw my head back and laughed. 'Peace and love, flower kids!' Then I gave them all the finger and stepped out into the street.

~~~~

LOOKING OUT FOR A FRIEND

I don't know how long I walked for after I'd left the market but it was long enough for me to start getting chafe marks on my legs from the trousers. They may be tight enough to signal good times lie ahead for any chicks in my presence, but they sure weren't designed to walk off the blues.

Just as the sun was starting to set, I found myself hobbling my sore and stinging legs back to the Riverside Market. And back to the blind alleyway exit for the second floor fire escape. A fire escape that had a bicycle chained to one of its supporting poles.

I didn't have to stand around in the shadows too much longer before the second floor door opened and a gleam of golden hair came out and started walking down the stairs. I waited until my Hippie Chick had unchained her bicycle before I stepped out from the dark shadows.

'Hiya, Mandy.'

She turned around quickly to squint at me. 'What are you doing here?'

'I just came by to say hello.'

There was a moment of quiet before she spoke again. And when she did, it was with a tone I'd never heard her use before. 'How dare you come near me after what you did in the market today?'

'What? What did I do?'

'Do you think I'm stupid?' she demanded pushing her bike towards me, 'you trashed Serena's stall!'

'Who said it was me? Who? Your goddamn baldy boyfriend?'

"Stop lying to me! It's so obvious it was you. They said it was someone in a black leather jacket, jeans and with long hair at the back.'

'Uhh, good one! They just described the whole of Glenvale.'

'They also said he was ranting about my stall. And that she'd stolen my idea.'

Dammit! I should never have said that in front of old Yellowstain. By doing it I'd just shown my bare arse to everyone. There was no use playing dumb anymore. Mandy had me on toast.

'Well, she had done!' I said angrily, 'you can't let anyone else steal your idea. She's taking away your livelihood! You've gotta start defending yourself!'

But Mandy obviously wasn't too happy about me wading in on her turf. 'Where do you get off, interfering in my life like that?'

'Hey, hey! I was just looking out for a friend.'

'Friend? What friend? What are you talking about? I don't even know you, let alone like you!'

Oo, that hurt. My eyes watered up at that backhander to the snout. I didn't even know chicks could hit that hard.

'You're a desperate sad man and a creep and a weirdo!' she was really laying into me now and I couldn't seem to get away from her punches. My legs seemed to be suddenly made of lead, 'and I don't want to ever see you again! Go and poison someone else's life with your hatred!'

She got onto her bicycle and started riding it away from me, all the while shooting arrows into my heart. 'Just get out! Get away from me! And stay away from me! Leave me alone and never come back! I hate you!'

I just stood there in the alleyway and watched as she rode away into the dusk on her pushbike. I couldn't move, I couldn't turn, I couldn't do anything except feel pain at her words to me...

Why? Why did I care so much? What did it matter that she thought I was a prick? Most people wouldn't find that too much of a shock considering our polar opposite attitudes to life. Yet, here I was sobbing into my pillow as though I'd had to shave off my flowing locks for the good of Science...

At this point I had to put such thoughts on hold as I noticed a windowless panel van screech to a stop at the end of the alley and the doors fly open so two very large men could get out in a hurry.

Uh oh. The two newcomers were my old friend Fred and a fella who I could vaguely recognise in the dim streetlight as Trent something or other, one of Fred's Devil teammates. They got out of the van and stood in the middle of the alleyway between me and freedom.

'Smithy would like you to have a drink with him,' Fred called out to me in the quiet flat voice he used when issuing an order that had to be obeyed immediately or suffer unspeakable consequences.

I sighed and slumped. Why? Why? Why? Why was I being tormented so much? Couldn't I just be allowed to lick my wounds in peace? Still, I had to try and scrabble my way out of this. 'Oh good one, Fred. Are you running errands for Smithy now?'

'But unfortunately, Smithy couldn't make it,' Fred carried on as though I hadn't said anything but the new cold tone in his voice announced that he'd heard me alright, 'so he said you should start without him.'

At this point Trent suddenly lifted up a long thick plastic tube, with a big cake icing cone glued to one end, triumphantly for me to see. To me it looked like a home-made funnel. Heavy duty sized.

Oh man! That didn't look good!

I backed away thinking fast. I was cornered in this dead end alley but if I feigned to go left and drew them with me, maybe I could then cut back and outsprint them...

Fred and his mate Trent must have read my mind because they started to spread out wider leaving only a gap –

Down the middle I sprinted! As fast as I could possibly manage! Forgetting all about my sore and aching legs in my desperation to escape!

But, it was hopeless! It was like trying to outrun a falling building. The wind on your face as you sprint isn't nearly as strong as the wind blowing past due to the massive object rushing up so fast behind you. It is my shame to admit that I couldn't help but let out a mouse-like squeak once a huge meaty hand clamped onto my shoulder and bit its fingers like a crane hook into my chest.

I lashed out with both legs and my one free arm as I was lifted clear of the ground by the meaty hand and tipped over onto my back in mid-air. Then I squeaked again as I was backslammed onto the pavement with enough force that it squirted out all of the air from my body.

I lay there gasping for a few seconds and I thought I was passing out as it everything suddenly went dark. Then I realised that it was only dark because the two men were leaning over me, Fred in pinning down my limbs and Trent fumbling around trying to force the plastic tube between my teeth.

As he grunted and sweated with the strain of holding me down Fred shook his head at me in disappointment. 'What did you have to go down to the wharves for, Duane? Surely you must have known that if Smithy is involved then I'm involved. Prick that he may be, he is still my captain after all.'

I made the mistake of opening my mouth to reply and heard Trent sigh happily as he now found it easy to force the plastic tube between my teeth and down my throat. I felt the gag reflex, then it all went cold as this enormous crude thick snake wiggled its blind way down my throat.

'That's the way. Take it all down... good man,' Fred whispered encouragingly as he watched.

Trent stopped pushing in the hose and reached for something in his coat. I caught a glint of light on glass as he took it out but couldn't move my head to see any more as Fred had it pinned between his knees. But Trent came back into view enough for me to see him tip a bottle of liquid into the cone. I couldn't taste it but I could smell it as he splashed it in. The air was thick with the reek of bourbon. Jack Daniels bourbon.

Maybe I shouldn't be complaining, there were worse ways to go. Not that I wanted to go yet. For some reason I thought of Tugger as I felt the cold liquid gurgling down the back of my throat and straight into my gut.

'I hope you don't mind swigging away at this stolen whiskey,' Fred said out loud next to my head, 'but our glorious leader didn't think you'd care so long as the drinks were on the house.'

I hoped he didn't expect a snappy reply as all I could do at the moment was gag on a plastic tube which roared as the bourbon chugged along the hose down into my stomach. The vibrations of the pipe went through my throat into my spine and up into my brain. But I couldn't do nothing about it but just listen to the bourbon gurgle and feel my belly full up with cold. Goddamn that old coot customer of Pearl's back at Sweet Pea's, not only did he need to have his bellrope tugged but he obviously was a big fan of squealing too!

At last the roaring eased and Trent tipped out the last of the 750ml bottle into the cone of his makeshift funnel. As the last dregs spilled out he twisted the bottle like a wine waiter so they wouldn't drip onto my shirt, then without looking, lobbed the empty over his shoulder so it smashed on the filthy roadway behind him. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out another full bottle of Jack Daniels – but was stopped by Fred's gigantic hand.

'That's enough,' Fred said shaking his head, 'he ain't a judge. He can't take no more.'

They got up off my arms and legs and stood there looking down at me for a moment before Fred spoke again. 'Now, you know I don't like fucking you over, Duane,' the big man said as Trent put a boot on my chest so he could rip the funnel hose back out from down my throat, 'but if you keep sniffing around our businesses, I might start to lose my temper.' He nodded to Trent who headed off over towards the van, 'so, to avoid any chance of unpleasantness, I've decided to take out some extra insurance to make sure you understand the gravity of what I'm saying...'

I watched dizzily as Trent opened the back door of the panel van and roughly pulled out a body that was, as usual, heavily bound up with gaffer tape and turned the head so it could look at me. Even though it was dark and the van was a fair way away, I could recognise the mane and wild staring eyes as belonging to one Detective Alex Szabo.

'We already found your mate hanging around sticking his nose into places where it didn't belong,' Fred growled in my ear.

Fuck! So that's where my partner had got to! I quickly tried to explain that Alex had had no intention of doing that but Uncle Jack was well and truly whispering in my ear now and all I could manage was an "uuhhh yuuuhhh yuuhhh" noise.

Fred nodded and gave me a wink. 'Don't worry, we'll keep an eye on your darling sweetheart for the night,' he said and got up and started to walk away toward the van, 'and he'll be fine – so long as you don't let him down.'

In the background Trent shoved Alex back inside the van and shut the door. The both men climbed in the front and started up the van. Fred looked out the window at me. 'See ya later, Duane,' he called out, 'much later.'

With that they drove off with tyres squealing along the street. Leaving me lying alone on the filthy pavement in the dark alleyway.

~~~~

HANGING WITH UNCLE JACK

Once they were out of sight I shoved my fingers down my throat almost to the elbow – and managed to get a lot of the bourbon out again. But not soon enough to stop it having its effect.

Crawling to my knees first I could feel my brain swimming in the thick fumes of the bourbon. Lurching to my feet, I staggered sideways and crashed into the overflowing wastebins that lined the sides of the alleyway. My belly felt really heavy now as though, frankly, it had been filled completely up with liquid. I had to start moving and get help before the booze really kicked in...

Up beyond the end of the alley I could see a light beckoning through the darkness. A light meant people, and people meant help, and help meant a nice warm stomach pump...

I tried to block everything out of my mind except that holy, angelic white light there before me, staggering and stumbling my way towards it fighting the tide of giggling that welled up inside me. And an evil voice that was urging me to start smashing car windows and windmill punches into the first person I saw.

The light was becoming brighter and brighter. I'd be there soon! If only I didn't have to zigzag so much, I would have made it already.

I was close enough to see writing on the sign but there was no way I could make it out, even if I was only an inch away, my capacity for reading had gone bye byes. There were people standing around by the door though...

Just my luck! It was a pub.

The last place on Earth I ought to be stumbling toward in this state, but – what the hell! I sure could use a drink to wash the taste of Trent's funnel hose out of my throat.

I stumbled up past the bouncers who stood like stone lions in the doorway and crashed on through the door.

I'd obviously chosen the right place to go as the bouncers had barely given me a second glance as I staggered in like a pinball bouncing off doorframes, walls and patrons. All around me were boozed up drunks singing, screaming and lurching around randomly. I walked through them all toward the big wooden bar like I was in another dimension as no one crashed into me though they flashed past me on all sides.

Once I got there, the barman seemed to know what I wanted even though I just grunted at him when I caught his eye. In less than a second there was a double shot glass of Jack Daniels sitting on the bar in front of me and I was handing over a note screwed up in my clenched fist. What one it was I had no idea, but it must have been enough because the barman went away again.

I slumped down onto an empty stool looking at my drink on the wood there in front of me. The loud hubbub of voices and music from the bar was banging around in my ears but I couldn't make out any words or songs. It was just a buzz of beautiful noise. I ran my tongue over my lips. They felt all raw, bruised and bleeding from where Trent had shoved the pipe, like I'd been trying to kiss Mike Tyson on the fist.

I looked back at my drink and, as I watched, it seemed to get bigger and further away from me at the same time. Too far away to reach though I wanted to reach it so badly. And, after a while, I felt my legs gradually lift up off the stool and rise and rise until I was lying face down in the air at the height of the bar with my hand gripping the edge. Now I was looking down at the dirty wooden floor and it was moving in and out like waves crashing on the shore. No bloody wonder it was so hard to walk in here when they got a wobbly old floor like that! But I didn't need to walk no more. I was lying on the air and I could let go of this bar and float around wherever I liked. If I could only get my fingers to unclench that is.

I stared at the hand there in front of me. The knuckles were white with strain as it gripped the wood of the bar. I could also see the tendons and muscles straining with all their might. It was a beautiful thing. Whoever owned that arm was a picture of athletic ability...

'You all right there, boy?'

I looked up and saw a man in a black coat and hat sitting there at the bar next to me. He also had a General Custer beard and I knew at once who it was.

'Uncle Jack!' I smiled and almost cried in relief to see a friendly face in here at this time, 'how'd you find me here?'

'What you talkin' about, boy?' Uncle Jack chuckled as he took a sip of his shot glass full of bourbon, 'I'm always there when you need me. In both good times and in bad.' He leant in close and I could see his dark eyes were twinkling under his hat, 'so what you crying into your glass for, soldier?'

Good old Uncle Jack! He doesn't care whether I'm bad or good, he just wants to listen like a best friend should. And there was so much I wanted to tell him, only I didn't want to cry like a baby.

'Ah, nothing,' I said floating back down to the bar so I could take a swig of my bourbon, 'I'm okay.'

'You sure now?' Uncle Jack asked, his eyes twinkling away like he already knew everything going on inside my head. 'You sure you ain't got no troubles to speak of?'

It was hopeless! He was too smart for me. He knew everything inside my head! I could feel my eyes get all red and sore.

Uncle Jack leaned in close. 'Coz I just wanna tell ya one thing to help ya out in times of trouble. And that is to either be fightin' or fuckin', boy. The good Lord ain't left room in a man's life for nothin' else.'

I looked at Uncle Jack and he nodded back at me. 'So, are you fuckin' right now?'

'No,' I whimpered back.

He smiled and gave me a wink. 'Then be fightin'!'

I thought about this advice for a moment until a finger flicked the crystal simplicity of it and the high-pitched tone rang out loud and long in my ears. I sniffed and wiped a tear from my eye at the beauty of this thought before nodding excitedly back at dear old, kind old, beautiful old Uncle Jack.

I was ready to be fightin'.

'Good boy,' Uncle Jack smiled kindly back at me then raised an eyebrow up at all the bottles of spirits up on the brightly lit glass shelves up behind the bar. 'Now, you see all them bottles up there on the top row?'

I nodded. I could see them, crystally clear.

'Parfait L'amour, Chartreuse, Galliano...' Uncle Jack read out the labels as I looked at the bottles glowing with bright coloured liquid on the top shelves. 'The list goes on and on. But I tell ya what, son. Ain't one of them's got a name fit to be spoken by a man's lips.'

Uncle Jack suddenly leant back and looked at me funny. 'Unless you'd rather have yourself a daquiri, of course. Is that what you want, soldier? A daquiri? Well, you go right ahead, don't mind me. Just get that barman there to make you one. I won't think any less of ya.'

Even though his face was smiling kindly, I knew he was ragging me. 'Piss off!' I said and Uncle Jack nodded.

'See, I knew you was a good ole boy,' he said and gave me a wink, 'now, I want you to do me a favour, son. I want you to pick up that stool there...' he nodded toward an empty bar stool next to me, '...and clear all that fag shit off the shelves.'

He then leant in real close and spoke to me like he was slotting a thought into my head. 'Make a mite of room up there for some real man's liquor.'

'Yes, sir,' I said nodding long and slow ones as I thought of all those shelves filled up with bottles of Jack Daniels and reached my hand out for the stool. My fingers curled around the cooling steel that felt so good to the touch...

No! This wasn't where I should be fighting. I needed to be at Shed 24C, Wilcox Wharf. The bastards had Alex all taped up and I needed to get him back rather than just piss about rearranging bar shelves here. It was all my fault they'd grabbed him, I'd got him into this shit and I had to get him out again. I couldn't let him down... to hell with Fred and the rest of them!

'Fuck the bastards!' I shouted out to the bar and I was cheered by those who reeled near me that were still capable of reactions. I didn't care how big Smithy and his mates were, I could take 'em down. Uncle Jack had shown me the way.

The man himself was glaring at me angrily like I was cheating him out of some decent entertainment. But he needn't worry, there'd be plenty for him to see if he kept his eyes open, except it wouldn't be here.

I shoved back my stool like a man of action – and slid off halfway onto the floor before jumping up alert and ready again. It was only a slip, ref! I hadn't been knocked down, honest! I was ready to fight on!

I lurched unsteadily away from my unreliable stool and started to barge my way through the drunken reeling crowd towards the door. There was no magical passing through untouched this time as I slammed leather jacketed figures out of my way and a few angry fists swung past my head as I shoved through, close enough for me to feel the wind on my cheek. But I wasn't going to be tempted, I was saving my rage for where it would do the most good.

At Shed 24C.

~~~~

A KICK IN THE GUTS

Luckily for me, Wilcox wharf wasn't a million miles away from wherever the hell I was so I was able to stagger towards it in full confidence that I'd get there within a night.

While I reeled along I began to plot up my approach. The way I saw it, there were two ways I could go with this. I could either barge up as noisily as I could, kick the door in and Attack! Attack! Attack!

Or – I could try the sneaky approach and creep along silently through the shadows only to – suddenly take them by surprise!

While I was mulling my options over, I stumbled blindly into a metallic rubbish bin and tumbled over it, crashing noisily and sprawling clumsily along the cement only to land face first in a puddle where I moistened my lips in the oily and evil-smelling water.

Okay, decision made. "Attack! Attack! Attack!" it was to be then. I glanced around, there were a few figures on the street staring at me as I staggered back to my feet wiping away the gunk off my lips. It looked like a whole bunch of people were coming out of a movie theatre that must have just finished a screening as there were quite a few spilling out at once. Just my luck to catch so many witnesses at once!

Still, at least this wasn't the wharf area! I thought to myself as I tried to hurry past their nervous glances at my wild appearance and behaviour...

'Duane!'

...so at least Smithy and Fred weren't here to spot me flailing about here like an eel on the end of a spear...

'Duane!!!'

...jeez, Uncle Jack was really giving me a hard time of it though! Not only was the whole street pitching and rolling around like a ferry in a storm, but I was imaging I could hear voices too. I could swear that sounded like...

'Duane, ya dumb bastard!'

Debs! Could it really be her?

'What the fuck's the matter with ya, ya snobby prick?'

It was Debs! And there she was standing in the doorway of the movie theatre with an orange coat over her arm glaring at me. 'Where do ya get off walking past me with ya nose in the air like that?'

Shit! I really didn't want to get dragged into talking to her now. Every moment I wasted now was a moment Alex spent tied up in the company of those psycho footy thug bastards. I had to get rid of her, and quick!

'Piss off, Debs!' I snarled at her.

'Have you been off drinking?' she replied, sniffing at the air around me, 'and didn't invite me? Right! That's it! It's all over between us!'

Buggeration! She wasn't taking the hint. I'd have to step up the effort. 'I said fuck off, bitch!' I yelled as nastily as I could and stumbled away from her flipping her the finger angrily as I went, 'scabby whore!'

Bingo! It had worked! Debs stopped talking and just stood there staring after me with her mouth open watching me go. By Christ! I was going to have to pay for that later! But it was a sacrifice I had to make for the good of my mission.

Absolutely everyone was giving me a wide berth now so I had the street all to myself as I stumbled away from civilisation as quickly as I could. Hang on, Alex! Me and Uncle Jack'll be there to rescue you soon!

At last I reached the wharf area. Now there was absolutely no one to take any notice of me. The Dipper had definitely earned his fat envelope, there was not a soul around. All I had to do now was find this goddamn "Shed 24C". It was easier said than done too and not just because I was pissed out of my skull. There were about a million wharf sheds of various ages and states of disrepair and whoever came up with their numbering system must have been as drunk as I was. Glancing up at the flaking paint on all the signs as I stumbled around, I couldn't make out any sort of pattern at all. For some wacky reason they'd put number 16 was next to number 15 while number 24 was next to number 23! It just didn't make any sense and I was just about to...

Hang on, wasn't I looking for number 24?

Yeah, it sounded familiar all right and, leaning up against a wall, I was able to squint my eyes and focus on just the one set of buildings as they floated around on the wharf. One of these sheds ought to be the one I was after. And, going by the light shining out the open door and two huge guys coming out carrying crates of bottles to a windowless panel van parked nearby, my well-honed detective skills were able to pick out one shed in particular.

Sneakily I stumbled along through the shadows towards the shed muttering a whispered prayer to Uncle Jack begging him to guide me through this cruel and hostile land of excessive violence that I had to travel in order to win Princess Alex back...

Then, for no apparent reason I saw a white light in front of my eyes and I crashed to my knees with a heavy numb feeling growing from the back of my head. So heavy was it that I felt like lying down and having a sleep right here in the dark alley where I knelt. I was just about to collapse forward when I felt a set of massive fingers grab the back of my shirt and magically I started to slide forward on the toes of my boots towards the lighted shed door. Uh oh. I could be wrong but I didn't think this was Uncle Jack guiding me...

'Look what we found in the gutter!' a deep and familiar voice said from behind me and suddenly I was inside the shed looking at the concrete floor from about one millimetre away with my cheek feeling hot and cool both at the same time.

I felt fingers twirl into my hair and my head was twisted up to look into the snarling face of Charles Ronald Smith.

'Where are the rest of them?' the face demanded.

I had no idea what it was babbling about so I just tried to pop the bottom lip out for an airing but succeeded only in dribbling a bit of pinkish spit.

'Fuck you!' Smithy shouted in my ear, 'who'd you bring?'

Ah! So that was what he was on about. Now, should I bluff him and say the whole station was on his case? Or should I just say something that would make him stop pulling my hair and twisting my neck?

'No one...' I mumbled through thick lips that barely managed to blunder across each other.

'Bullshit you're alone!' my tormentor snapped, 'it sounded like there was a fucking army out there!'

'I couldn't see no one else,' another voice said from nearby, 'and he's been boozing on the job too, don't forget.'

Smithy's face relaxed a little as he stared at me. 'That's right, he has been...' he grinned and shoved my head back. I felt myself crash against hard wood and I heard a rattling of bottles as I leaned against the crates in a slumped seated position.

Once the stars disappeared from in front of my eyes I could see that the shed was mostly full of booze crates although quite a few had already been spirited away by some rather large thieves. As I gazed I also spotted an extremely familiar figure lying casually on the floor of the shed almost completely trussed up in black gaffer tape. The eyes weren't covered though and as they looked at me I was able to detect the purest expression of disappointment I have ever seen in my life.

My view of those eyes was spoiled by Smithy squatting down in front of me. 'You've actually done bloody well to get here,' he said as he peered into my face, 'jeez, you're one tough bastard!' he added shaking his head and smiling at me, 'what a pity you just can't take a fucking hint!'

I gurgled in reply and rolled my eyes about trying hard to stay conscious. Through blurred vision I could vaguely make out the massive figures of Smithy, Fred, Trent and another player whose name I thought was Rudy, standing around looking at me with their hands on their hips.

Fred turned to Smithy. 'Now what?' he muttered.

'Just what I'd like to know!' another voice broke in and we all turned to see Manny walk in through the open door followed by Jonny, his eyes on the floor and knife in hand as usual.

'Wha – wha – what are you doing here?' a suddenly pale Smithy asked of his agent.

'Oh, I was just out for a romantic moonlit stroll around the wharves with Jonny, when I heard a commotion and thought I'd check it out,' Manny said as he wandered over, acting all super innocent as though this was purely a Brian-free co-incidence. 'Why? Is there something happening here I'm not supposed to know about?' he added glancing at all the crates of Jack Daniels before resting his rark-filled eyes on the footy players themselves.

'Uh... no! I – we, ah... were just kidding around after training,' Smithy grinned at his agent, 'you know, just boyish hijinks!'

'Is that so?'

'Yeah!' Smithy turned to his mates for support, 'eh, guys?' The others all nodded hopefully at Manny.

'And what about the policeman trussed up over here?' Manny asked pointing at Alex, 'and the one lying here...' now the sports agent waved off-handedly at me, '...all beaten up? Are they part of this game too?'

Smithy looked embarrassedly at me. 'Ah... kinda...'

'Oh, Smithy, Smithy, Smithy!' Manny shook his head, 'you are a lot of things, but "smart" is not one of them. That's why you have me to look after you – all of you!' he added with a glare at Fred, Rudy and Trent who all looked glum. 'You see, boys, I have to clean up all your little "messes" and this isn't your garden variety eye-gouging charge that I can get to go away with just a nudge and a wink. No, shit has a habit of sticking and if word gets out about this, then your value to the market is bound to take a big hit.'

'Ha!' Smithy broke in to sneer to his teammates, 'there you go boys, that's your percentage in action!' He turned back to Manny, 'so how about less of the speeches and more of the cleaning out of toilets, agent man. Remember you work for us, motherfucker!'

Manny immediately started to chuckle at this, but it didn't sound like he was remembering a funny joke. 'Ah yes. Now I having been meaning to talk to you about your attitude, Smithy. And I can see that I can put it off no more. It is definitely time for a few home truths.

'Smithy, you are my meat puppet, nothing more. I only allow you to remain alive because you have fat teats that I choose to keep milking for profit. You take whatever pills I tell you to. You slip over a banana skin whenever I tell you to. And you will even kill, whoever I want, whenever I want. And like it. Because if you don't, you will displease me. And should that happen, then you will receive the same treatment that this cunt,' here he pointed down at me, 'is about to receive for irritating me one too many times – '

The rest of Manny's speech was permanently lost to history as he was cut off by the sound of yet someone else tripping over something metallic outside.

Jeez! I thought to myself, another pisshead turning up – just what we need!

Fred, Trent and Rudy all disappeared out through the door and, after a very brief scuffle, they reappeared with an astonishing booty. Despite my state, I almost leapt up off the floor in amazement – and horror – to see Rudy bring in my old mate Debs in a headlock and Fred carrying under each arm a little terrified-looking schoolgirl from St. Catherine's.

'Hey, good news!' Fred said in a light voice although his eyes showed quite a bit of anger and confusion, 'it looks like those party invites didn't miss the post after all!'

He and Rudy put down their spoils and there was a moment of quiet as the men all gaped at the three newcomers as they huddled together in fear. As I looked at the two girls, their little orange coats stirred a hazy memory in my muddled mind...

Without a word, the men all turned to look down at me at the same time.

'Do you know anything about this?' Smithy demanded.

I tried to think quickly but my head still hurt from my many injuries. What would happen if I pretended that I didn't know them? Would it make things better or worse? I wasn't sure, but in my current state I doubted that I could keep up a lie for too long without stuffing up. It'd be better to sail close to the truth I reckoned.

'Hey, babes!' I grunted as brightly as I could, 'what's up?'

'We've been following you,' was Debs' blunt reply. She was obviously too shaken up to lie as well and her eyes looked afraid as they darted around looking at all the big unsmiling men.

Oh no! Don't tell me the girls had signed her up into their amateur sleuthing club! 'Why the hell – ?'

'I saw ya in the street, ya nong!' Debs suddenly stopped looking afraid and started looking angrily at me, 'or have ya forgotten already! And Rachelle told me you'd been shagging around so I thought I'd see if that was what you were up to. And to rip your cock off for ya! I told you not to piss her about!'

Despite the situation, Trent and Rudy sniggered at this but I ignored them and nodded at the stunned-looking Margot and Stacey instead. 'And you had to bring them along?'

'Well, I'd taken them to the movies hadn't I!' Debs shrieked, and I knew where I'd seen the orange coats before. 'So what was I supposed to do?' she whined, 'leave them in a bar?'

'Why not?' I grunted back, 'it woulda been better than bringing them here!'

'Hey! The thing I want to know,' Smithy butted in by whirling around on me to demand, 'is who the hell else have you got out there? So far we've had you, your partner, my agent, some fat chick and a couple of schoolkids wandering in – who's gonna be next? Your goddamn mother?'

Huh! Not likely! I thought to myself. Well, not unless there was a heap of Bombay Blue Sapphire gin bottles falling out the back of Shed 24D next door, that is.

'Hey! Watch who you're calling "fat", buster!' Debs snarled at Smithy who opened his mouth to reply but got cut off by a super pissed-off looking Manny.

'Enough! Can we put an end to this nonsense?' he asked looking around the room as though he thought it was a reasonable request. And it worked too as everyone immediately looked down at their shoes in embarrassment like they were naughty schoolkids being told off by the schoolmaster. Manny turned on Debs. 'And you! You should be ashamed of yourself. You call yourself a guardian for these children? They should be at home in their beds at this hour. It's a disgrace!'

Debs, despite herself, hung her head as she obviously thought he had a point.

Stacey obviously didn't though, and opened her up-until-now wise and shut gob to answer back Manny.

'Oh shut up, ya prem!'

The words echoed around the storeroom like a ricocheting bullet. Bouncing off walls, wooden crates and bottles of yet unstolen booze. Bouncing off deeply furrowed brows, gritted teeth and mighty and potentially mortal fists.

There was a moment of extreme quiet following this then a stifled sniggering started up from many different directions at once.

All except Manny's direction that is. He looked around in surprise and amazement. 'Prem? What's that?'

'It means premature ejaculator!' Fred said snorting into his high-pitched whinny again.

The laughter broke out into the open at this and all the men were bent over double guffawing away. I even managed a bit of a snigger myself. Manny didn't look like he enjoyed being a figure of fun though. And, just like he'd done to the editor Thor, he stepped over to Stacey in a quick movement and slapped her hard on the cheek.

Everyone stopped laughing in the same second. Did that actually happen? Did he really just slap that little girl's face?

As I stared, a vision came to me. A memory of a night long ago when I stood in a line outside some bar looking to get in while Fred was on the door. In the queue behind me there was some fella arguing the toss with his girlfriend. And, the angrier the fella got with her, the whiter the knuckles got on Fred's fists as he stood there in front of me. Then, when the dumbass guy behind me finally gave his girlfriend a bit of a slap to shut her up, Fred growled at me to take over the door and went to sort things out.

I remember then standing there with the girlfriend on the doorstep for ages looking at my watch and listening to a seemingly endless series of meaty blows and muffled groans coming out from the dark alleyway beside the bar. Finally, both me and the girl had got sick of waiting for Fred to finish punching the guy over and went home together instead. And as far as I can remember, she wasn't bad neither!

The main thing was, I didn't know why Fred always felt so strongly about defending women in need. Maybe something had happened to his Ma when he was a kid or maybe he was just a gentleman. But "why" didn't matter right now, only "how" did. And, if I could get those knuckles to go white again, then who knows? Maybe me and the girls could get out of here in one piece...

'Aw, that was nice,' I groaned out from where I slouched on the floor, 'hit a little girl why doncha? Who you gonna whack next? An old woman?'

'Shut up, you!' Smithy turned to glare down at me.

Goddammit! He'd changed his tune! He was all for giving Manny a hard time before and now here he was defending the prick. I guess Manny must have scared him with all his heavy talk. I couldn't blame him really, I was scared too. That Manny sure had a way with words.

But stuff it! I couldn't stop! I was really in the shit here. And Alex, Debs and the girls were too. And it was all because of me and my dumbness. I had to do something to try and turn the situation and, frankly, the Prince of Rark was the only one qualified enough here to stir Fred up enough to turn him back from the dark side and take up arms against his boss. The pricks may have taken my arms and legs out of the equation but they hadn't silenced my lethal beak. I had a way with words too...

'Hey, Manny! I think I saw a blind woman outside. Maybe you should give her a hiding with her white cane as well?'

My heart leapt as I saw that Fred was now staring at the sports agent with a black look on his face – and a spreading paleness on his knuckles.

'You hit a little girl,' the massive man himself said in that same quiet voice I'd last heard in the alleyway outside the Riverside Market. All traces of his smiles and laughter of before had gone. A long, long way away.

'Cool it, Fred!' Smithy snapped, 'he didn't mean to, did you, Manny?'

'Er, no. No, of course I didn't. Sorry girls, I'll make it up to you.' Gone was all Manny's tough talk now he'd seen the look in Fred's eyes. He pulled out his wallet and shelled out a few bills onto the floor in the general direction of the girls. 'There you go,' he added, 'now we're all square.'

Smithy was looking worried too. 'Where the hell did you girls learn words like that anyway?' he chuckled looking around for support. 'Jeez! The school system nowadays!'

No one smiled. Everyone was watching Fred waiting to see how the big man would react. I couldn't let them talk him round. I had to keep picking at the scab on his sore. 'Hey, how old are you, Stacey?' I groaned out from the floor.

'I said "shut up"!' Smithy shouted stepping over to kick me hard in the gut. Now that was really going to hurt tomorrow, I thought to myself as I watched his boot sink up to the laces in my midriff. But luckily for me I was still pissed out of my skull so I didn't feel any pain. But Smithy's kick did make all the remaining whiskey and bile in my stomach boil up into my throat – and I tell you, it wasn't a flavour you'd look back on with a smile.

'Hey, looks like your leg's okay after all, Smithy?' I gasped, 'you been foxing all them injuries?'

'Leave him alone, ya bastard!' Debs screeched out.

'Sssh, babe!' I called out, 'don't let Manny know you're here or he'll slap you too!'

Wham! Wham! Wham! This time Smithy just got straight into the kicking without wasting his breath. It took me a few seconds to get my own breath back too.

Meanwhile, brave little Stacey had managed to stop sobbing long enough to call out an answer to my earlier question, 'I'm twelve and a quarter years old, Detective!' through her tears.

'Oh ho ho! Hear that, Fred?' I called out after chugging back all the bile, 'twelve and a quarter years old! That's definitely fighting age!'

Wham! Wham! 'Shuddup! You! Fuck!'

Smithy kicked me in the face this time and it must have made me bite my tongue because I had to spit a lot of blood out onto the floor before I could talk again. 'Don't be greedy though, Manny,' I wheezed, 'let me have a turn at thumping the other one!'

Before Smithy could polish his boots on my face again, Manny chose this moment to speak up. 'Jonny?' and Jonny stepped forward, his eyes on the floor. Manny's weren't though, his eyes were burning holes in me, 'kill him.'

Jonny nodded and for the first time I saw his eyes as he looked up at me. And I could see why he never looked at anybody, his eyes were those of a dead man. Just dark black holes that looked like they'd been painted on a face made out of wood. Once you copped an eyeful of them you knew that your standard of health was about to take a serious pasting. Jonny smiled a handful of yellow teeth at me and started walking in my direction flipping his open knife from one hand to the other.

'Stop it!' Debs shrieked out, 'stop it! You're insane!'

Jonny wasn't listening to her though and from the floor I could see his eyes flickering over me as though he was deciding which would be the best part of my body to stick that knife of his. He wasn't fooling anybody though, I was damn sure he knew exactly where it had to go. I willed my arms and legs to start moving but Uncle Jack and Smithy between them had succeeded in tying a couple of dozen anvils to each limb. I was fucked. And there was nothing left but to bow out with whatever dignity I could muster from my glamorous pozzie of lying down in a pool of blood and spit.

'Fuck ya all!' I tried to shout but really I didn't have the energy to do much more than whimper and wait for the blade to slide in between my ribs. Looking into Jonny's pair of dark eyes as he walked towards me took me back to that time in the Shell station when I was staring down the barrels of Sanjay Patel's Winchester 101 12 gauge double barrel shotgun...

Shit! Maybe this was what Kurt had been babbling about when he'd said I was predicting my own future. And Pearl had been saying the same too; that my mouth would get me into nasty trouble.

Jeez! I was such an idjit! My mates had been trying to warn me and I just wouldn't listen to them. And now here I was, about to pay for my dumbness in the most ultimate way. Stuck like a paralysed pig on the end of some fuck's knife while the crowd clapped and cheered in the background.

I should be feeling angry, but all I felt was disappointed. Like I was a little wee kid riding on a merry-go-round for the first time and the carousel starts to slow down. And no matter how hard I dig my heels into the side of the big plastic horse, it won't stop leaping lower and lower and the music won't stop winding down.

Then the realisation begins to bite that there's nothing you can do that can make this wonderful magical ride keep going. And that pure ecstatic joy you'd just felt – a joy which had made you forget that your Ma's a drunk and people call her a loser when they think you can't hear. And that all you can remember of your Dad is a big gold watch on a hairy strong wrist and an unshakeable feeling that you'd loved him – it all begins to fade away.

As I gazed into Jonny's black eyes from my comfortable spot on the floor, the theme tune to This is Your Life, Duane Mullett was starting up again and, once more, I was able to enjoy again all those great shags in the back seats of the big old cars...

Then, suddenly the show ended abruptly as Jonny's eyes leapt up sideways and went out as his head slammed itself hard against the concrete wall of the shed. I watched open-mouthed in astonishment as Jonny's limp body then flopped lifelessly into a crumpled heap on the floor.

Amazed, I looked back to the spot where Jonny's eyes had been and saw Fred's fist still lingering there on the end of his outstretched arm with the knuckles burning bright white in the gloom. He stood as quiet as a statue and was looking only at Manny.

'Take them girls out of here,' he growled at Debs without taking his eyes off the white-faced sports agent, 'some stuff's gonna happen in here that they don't need to see.'

It took a moment for Debs to react, then she began to usher the two girls towards the door. Meanwhile Trent and Rudy were looking at each other as though wondering whether they should let them out or not.

'Let them go,' Fred's answer to their unspoken question was said with maximum menace. And it was heeded too as the two players took a slight step back to let the women through.

Debs wasn't happy though. 'What about Duane?' she snapped back from the doorway while glancing over at me.

'Just go,' Fred said lowering his arm with his eyes still on Manny. I could see that Debs wasn't too happy about leaving me behind though and, frankly, neither was I. But beggars can't be choosers and if she could get the girls out then at least we'd achieved something.

'See ya at Guvvy's, babe!' I croaked out as loudly as I could and gave as good a wink as my rapidly swelling eyes would let me. Debs sort of sobbed and pushed the two stupefied girls out through the door – and off to freedom.

Meanwhile Smithy wasn't happy with how things were going either. 'Goddamn it, Fred! Think about what you're doing!'

'I'm done thinking,' the big man said cracking his knuckles, 'and now it's time to start doing...' With that he started to walk towards Manny who threw up his hands and pleaded.

'Fred! Come on! You're taking this too far! It was an accident!'

Fred didn't reply. He just kept walking towards his agent grim-faced. Manny realised he was in serious trouble and hit out – hard. 'Hey! I'm not the only one who's hit a woman in this room, Fred. Or have you conveniently forgotten that?'

It didn't look like Fred had forgotten. Manny's words had made him stop in his tracks and his face went blacker than ever. 'That was a long time ago,' he muttered in a very quiet voice.

The sports agent seized his chance. 'And so will this be! One day a long time from now. When you and me and Smithy – and Trent and Rudy – ' he added waving quickly in their direction, 'are all sitting around deciding on which country we'll buy. Because that's how much we're talking about here, Fred. We're on the cusp of some serious business now. And it's too important to let a silly little slap ruin it all!'

'A silly little slap?' Fred shook his head and chuckled to himself, 'if only it ever stopped there!' He looked back at the sports agent, 'I can't take back what I did, Manny. But ever since, I swore I'd show any man who hit a woman what it felt like to get hit. And, now I'm gonna show you.'

He started in on Manny again and the agent's voice started to rise in desperation. 'Think of your career! Think of your future outside of sport! It's all tied up with me, Fred. Whether you like it or not,' now he went for a hardcore voice, 'you owe me!

Bad move. Now Fred was looking at him like he wanted to fit him into an eggcup. 'I don't owe you nothing, Percentage Man.'

'But you do owe me, Fred,' Smithy said choosing this moment to step out in front of the huge man, 'and surely, me smoothing over that little slap in the past has gotta be worth something?' he added, giving the best shrug performance of his career.

Jeez! Smithy meant business! The brave bastard was going all out by playing his mateship card. But the big question was whether he actually had it in his hand to play or whether he was bluffing. But I guess we were about to find out real soon.

'I've already paid you back a million times for that,' Fred said, glowering back at his captain.

'Well, this is favour number one million and one. Forget what I said before, we need this prick alive. For now. Walk away, Fred. I'm begging you.'

'Sorry, Smithy. But I guess I can only count to a million,' his teammate replied with a little smile – and a big swing...

~~~~

AWESOME, MAN!

Over the years, the two local rival footy teams, the Glenvale Devils and the Fromont Buccaneers have had some pretty meaty derby games. And while I'm not really into sport in a big way, I have caught a few of the aggro highlights on the TV and I have to say, they were pretty impressive.

But nothing the Devils and the Buccaneers have ever served up was any sort of match for what I was witnessing now in Shed 24C.

It started with Fred raining a series of colossal blows into Smithy and, for such a big man, he moved so fast! His fists were like a blur and it was only the deafening sound of steel smashing into stone that let you know anything was happening at all. But Fred needed to be fierce as he wasn't fighting a mere mortal. A steady diet of steroids and a lifetime of violence both on and off the field had hardened Smithy into an awesome fighting machine that could take its fair share of punishment.

Still, the intensity of Fred's attack drove Smithy backwards and grim-faced, the big man worked his way steadily through his opponent towards the goal line, on which stood the pale and quaking Manny.

But the tide starteed to turn as Rudy and Trent stepped in to support their captain. Attacking Fred from either side with pumping fists they forced him to slow his progress and defend. Smithy was inspired by this and counter-attacked his huge vice-captain as well. And, while he may have been off the field for a time with his seemingly never-ending string of injuries, he began to rediscover some form again by lashing Fred with some massive kicks and punches. Looking on helplessly from the floor I could see why Smithy had been made Devils captain, the ferocity on display was truly terrifying.

It was also fought in such an eerie silence with only the sound of heavy blows connecting and the occasional grunt as a bruise was born.

Then Fred clocked Rudy with a beauty that rattled his skull and, in a rage, the smaller man replied by snatching up a case of full Jack Daniels bottles – and dashing it into the side of Fred's head.

The big man was stunned by this then, as he regathered his bearings, his mask of concentration cracked to show genuine fury and he was just about to launch into a furious counter attack when –

'Ho!' A loud voice cracked out like a rifle shot and the fight stopped in an instant as we all became suddenly aware of a forest of steel gun barrels at the door pointing at everybody in the room. 'I think we'll do all the buttfucking in here from now on!'

It was Captain Roger E. Weinstock and his band of merry men of course and I guess Debs must have been keeping herself real busy calling them up while the Devils boys were having their little playfight in amongst the crates of Jack Daniels bottles. I've never been so glad to see a male in all my life, even though I was back where I'd sworn I'd never be again; ie. in front of Weinstock's loaded gun. Especially now, as every drop of blood in his body seemed to have rushed up into his face making his cheeks flame red like a sunset and his eyes to bug out like a freaked out frog.

Those bulging peepers swivelled around over everyone in the shed as the man himself worked out what was going down. He picked out the two Devils players with his rifle barrel. 'You two – out!' he barked jerking the gun to indicate the door. Fred's teammates scowled but stumped off where they were told. But before they disappeared through they turned back to Fred.

'Awesome scrap, man!' Trent grunted through bleeding lips and nodded his appreciation to the big man.

'Yeah,' Rudy wheezed through a bruised throat, 'huge stuff, fella.' Then they were gone with a few of the Situations guys peeling off to escort them outside.

Weinstock turned his attention to Fred. 'You too, big guy. Hei!'

Fred nodded quietly and set off for the door. All the Situations guys took a step back and gripped their guns a little tighter as Fred moved but he just stared straight ahead his hands hanging limply at his sides. More soldiers followed him out leaving only a handful behind with Weinstock.

Smithy caught the captain's eye. 'Nice work, fruitcake. Now, there's still a few ways we can go with this – '

'Is that a fact?' Weinstock cut in pulling a face as though he was thinking seriously about what Smithy had just said. 'But, hey! Did you factor in this option?' he asked, suddenly swinging his rifle butt through the air to whack the sports star hard on the back of the head.

'Uhh...!' Smithy cried out, his eyes wide in stunned outrage, 'you can't do that! I'm – '

'Smithy!' Weinstock cut in. 'Yeah, I know you are. And that was for the first series of SmithySan. My wife's Japanese, you fuck!' He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to a couple of his men, 'get this trash outta my sight,' and they hurried forward to drag the groggy sports star off feet first.

The Situations captain turned his attention to the quavering Manny. 'Go on, tempt me. I beg you to!'

In response Manny threw himself on the floor and put his hands over the back of his head. I guess he wasn't such a hotshot without Jonny or Smithy to prop him up. Weinstock watched while his men cuffed the sports agent then shoved him sobbing out through the door. Then he glanced at Alex and then me and the storm vanished from his face in an instant. 'Hey, Mullblatt! Good to see ya, buddy!' then he sniffed the air around me and winced, 'and on duty too huh?'

It took me a moment to process what he'd just said and in that time the relief that me, Alex, Debs and the wee girls were all safe from danger – and the pain from my injuries – had taken over, so I could only make another "uhhh yuuuhhh" noise.

Weinstock threw his head back and roared with laughter. 'I'm just ragging ya, you looney tune!' he shouted, 'man! What a character! Ho!' With that, he stalked out leaving only the sheepish soldier Lionel in the shed with me.

My old friend looked me up and down then shook his head sadly. He sighed and knelt down beside me while pulling out from his pocket a reel of red electrical tape...

~~~~

DIFFERENT STROKES FOR DIFFERENT FOLKS

After a night's sleep and four different types of morphine being applied in the most eyebrow-raising ways, I felt a lot better. The hospital doctors were adamant that I should stick around for a couple of days for observation – but they'd caved in to my demands for an early discharge once I'd threatened to publish the keycodes to all their drug cabinets on the net. I wasn't going to miss Smithy's interrogation for anything!

Alex, once he'd finished screaming from having all his tape peeled off, swung by in his horseshit-reeking truck to pick me up the next morning. He also told me that the boss was keen to kick things off with big Fred in the chair. I was furious and once we got into work I told our employer in no uncertain terms that we'd be wasting our time interrogating Fred Villasau. I was sure he just wasn't the type of person who was ever likely to rat on his mates.

The boss wasn't buying it though so Frieda, Alex, Burger and Rice had to all stand around listening to me argue with the boss in the secret observing room while Fred himself waited quietly in the Interrogation Room on the other side of the one way mirror.

'...and I say Fred was the reason we got Manny in the first place!' I shouted at my superior officer, 'in fact, we couldn't have got him without Fred!'

'And I say, he was also deeply involved in several illicit operations,' the boss replied his ears firmly closed to reason, 'although his contribution last night will certainly be taken into account come sentencing time. Look, I don't care what your relationship is with this villian, I'm turning a blind eye to any fraternising you may have done with him in the past. So long as it stays in the past! But right now we've got a conviction to obtain and we need some information from Mr. Villasau in order to get it. So I want you to go in there and extract that information. Then you can kiss and cuddle up with him on your own time.'

I shook the dust out of my flowing locks. The guy was unbelievable! 'You're wasting your time, you won't get nothing outta Fred!'

'Oh really?' the boss leered at me, 'not even if he falls down the stairs a few times? Yes, I heard all about your exploits with Zane McNamara over in the Situations Interrogation Room, and so now I'd like you to apply your patented "Glenvale Way" to suit my purposes this time.'

'I ain't touching him!' I snarled back folding my arms, though the pain of doing so just about bent me over double, 'even if you sack me five times over, I ain't doing it!'

I got no sympathy from my superior. 'I see, met our match have we?' the boss sneered hard at me, 'so you're not so tough when it comes to someone bigger than you, hmm? Well, fear not but this brazen cowardice will be noted in your personal file!'

'Along with his successful arrests too surely, sir?' Frieda saw fit to add in and I could have kissed her for it. But I'd better not say where!

The boss glowered at her for a moment then turned to look at the others. 'Officer Rice? Seeing as Detective Mullett has let us all down, perhaps you'd like to take up this opportunity to accommodate us?'

Rice looked like he'd rather not, but seeing as he was bottom of the food chain – and, frankly, bottom of the evolutionary chain too – he didn't have much choice. It wasn't like he'd earned any right to an opinion by going out and busting any super nefarious villians as part of a day's honest toil. So Officer Rice was sent in and the rest of us lined up along the one way mirror to watch him work up a sweat shouting and punching Fred repeatedly in the face. It didn't seem to make much difference to old Fred though. He just sat there in his chair looking stone-faced at the wall throughout the entire performance without giving the slightest hint that he even noticed Rice was in the room.

After about an hour, Rice was exhausted and hunched over with hands on knees gasping for air, his clothes saturated with sweat. Fred sensed that the farce was finally over so he stood up and walked over to the door. Here he waited motionlessly until some more Uniforms came to lead him quietly back to his cell as though nothing had happened.

Once they'd gone I glanced over at the boss who still stared out through the mirror into the Interrogation Room, his knuckles white on the sill. He stayed like that for a while until finally he stirred.

'All right, go get Smithy!' he barked and the greasy Burger scuttled off to do his bidding at once. I glanced over behind the boss' back at Frieda who cocked an eyebrow back at me.

I nodded vigorously. I had no problems whatsoever in volunteering for duty in belting Smithy. My pancreas was still black and blue from our last matey chat so I was quite happy to tag Rice and warm up the knuckles ready for the sports star's grand entrance. The boss was much happier with my new and improved attitude though he must have caught a whiff of "overkill" in the air as he insisted that everyone cramp my style by sitting in on my efforts.

Smithy himself wasn't too perturbed by a cast of thousands waiting him in the Interrogation Room. He still had bloodshot eyes and a bandage wrapped around his head from Weinstock's blow in Shed 24C. But his smirk was as cocky as ever and he gave us a decent demo of it once Burger had finished dragging him into the Interrogation Room.

'I s'pose you want me to rat out Manny?' he chuckled once Burger had slammed him down in the chair beside the table.

'That's the general idea,' I replied taking my belt off and wrapping it around my knuckles in front of him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the boss start at this but Freida put a sexy hand on his arm to calm him down. Frankly, I wouldn't have minded her putting that same hand dow–

'So, what's in it for me, fruitcake?' Smithy busted in on my golden thoughts to ask.

'I – don't – punch you... much,' I said not fully wiping the smirk off my face. I was really, really looking forward to some payback on this, 'reasonable enough?'

Smithy didn't look too worried though. 'Ha! That sounds just like one of Manny's contracts!' he chortled, 'but I was kind of thinking more along the lines of "total immunity".'

'That can be arranged, but only if you agree to testify against him!' the dumbass boss butted his fat gob in on my crafty interrogation procedure to shout. Frieda obviously hadn't managed to get a hand over his stupid mouth yet.

'Well,' the sports star said with a smirk, 'maybe I will do that. After all, what do I need an agent for? I can broker my own deals!' He smirked at the boss and waggled a finger in the air, 'but if you wanted me to turn in my accountant, now that'd be a different story!'

'What?' I couldn't believe my ears, 'so you're gonna walk away from your mate just like that?'

'Hey! Manny ain't no mate!' Smithy snorted with a shrug, 'he is – was my agent. Until he shamed himself that is. Because, as we all know, Assaulting a Minor isn't your garden variety charge that anyone can get to just go away with just a nod and a wink,' he said glancing at me with a fresh smirk, 'and shit has a habit of sticking, eh Detective? So, when word of this gets out, I'm pretty confident that Manny's value to the market is going to take a big hit. And therefore, there's no sense in me letting his own misfortune ruin mine.'

The bastard! Brian had been right, Smithy really was a weasel. He'd spotted the chance to get rid of his boss and take over everything for himself. And we were bending over backwards offering to let him walk away scotfree! Goddammit, this really sucked!

Frieda spoke up. 'So, Mr. Charles Ronald Smith, in return for immunity you are prepared to deliver evidence as a State witness as to the involvement of Mr. Manuel Roberto Gonzalez Olivier in narcotics trafficking?'

'Sure I will, fruitcake,' Smithy replied turning to look her up and down, 'on one condition – that you have dinner with me.'

Our Crimes Co-ordinating Officer was shocked by this and took a step back in amazement. She glanced over at the boss who nodded as though he was the one who'd dreamed the idea up and was just waiting for her to clinch the deal. Then it was Frieda's turn to look Smithy up and down, and decide. 'The things I do for Glenvale!' she sighed out loud with a shrug – and a hint of a smile.

I was outraged! No fucking way! He wasn't going to score Frieda as well, the absolute prick!

'You shut the fuck up!' I shouted at Smithy and swung a punch into his jaw with all my might. I got a good connection too and the room echoed with the sound of a side of beef being smacked. My knuckles immediately screamed with pain and I figured that I'd probably broken them on that enormous stone jaw.

Smithy's head was jolted back a bit but he soon recovered. 'Hmm,' he nodded and touched the corner of his mouth where a tiny amount of blood had formed from my punch, 'not bad! You ever give up this cop mularky and maybe we could find a spot for you in the train-on squad.'

I just snarled in reply and drew my bloodied and broken fist back again but that was as far as I got as there was a sudden flurry of movement behind me and in a flash I was held tightly by Burger, Rice and Alex.

'Get him out of here!' the boss shouted at them before pointing a finger almost in my eye, 'your conduct is beyond outrageous, Detective!'

But that was as far as he got before the sultry charms of our Crimes Co-Ordinating Officer dragged him back from in my face. Though I struggled and strained with all my might, I couldn't stop Alex and the Uniforms from twisting me around and shoving me off against my will out toward the Interrogation Room door. As they frog-marched me past Smithy, the sports star was heading in the opposite direction, moving in for the kill on Frieda.

'Hey, you like seafood?' I heard him murmur, 'coz I know the chef of a great place down by the water...'

While my colleagues wrenched my hands off the doorframe and kneed me hard in the back until I collapsed through the gap, I snarled back at the sports star like a hungry wolverine with its balls set on fire.

'Hey, don't feel so bad,' Burger sneered in my ear as he wrenched my arm up behind my back, 'how could she ever resist him? He's Smithy!'

~~~~

CHEERS, DUANE AND ALEX

The boss didn't stay mad with me for long though. Once news of Manny's arrest hit the papers and TV, the whole City went ape crazy about it. Me and Alex became semi-famous for about ten minutes – until the boss managed to hog all the credit that is.

But I didn't mind. Once I learned that the TV reporters weren't interested in broadcasting my phone number out for any hot chicks that might be watching, I couldn't see any point myself. Besides, I didn't really want to become like that Dave Jackson off Cash Sweep who was always going out of his way to let everybody know who he was shagging. I wasn't an exhibitionist like him, I always preferred to park up in a shady corner if I was about to score a backseat bounce, and leave any bragging to be done in the pub later.

The boss felt obliged to promote me and my partner though and, with his eye for the TV cameras, announced that he was going to make us Detective Inspectors in public rather than just in his office. So a couple of days later me and Alex found ourselves down at the Glenvale Municipal Hall where Axl's latest moment of glory had been and where I'd seen Rex Wildblood smack over Dr Death all those years ago. But, the only wrestling that was going on this time was me and Alex fighting for breath from the goddamn bowties that the boss had insisted we hang ourselves with.

There was a pretty good turnout for a Monday night, word had slipped out that there'd be free booze and food, and as we sat up on the stage I could see heaps of people I knew sprinkled in amongst the bludgers. Ma had come though I couldn't see my brother Brian. Debs was here along with Kurt, that fat Webby, Soon Ok, Captain Weinstock, Lionel and some of the boys were in the crowd, Axl, Alex's Missus and even Oscar had brought his filthy self. Plus there was Brown Sugar, Burger, Rice and all the other detectives sitting right up in the front row.

I couldn't see Rachelle anywhere, which was a bit of a disappointment. But I guess there was only so much crap a chick could take before she spat the dummy for good. I hadn't actually seen her since she'd spotted me snuggling up with Pearl so I hadn't had a chance to explain myself. I hadn't seen Debs to enlist her help neither as I'd heard she'd been lying low after copping a real earful from old Irene Gundesen for putting the wee girls in so much danger.

I bet both Stacey and Margot would have been keen to be here tonight but no matter what sort of pout-athon they could come up with back at St Catherine's would have been enough to sway a fired-up Irene this time.

There were heaps of others I knew that were here too and a lot more that weren't due to them being either in jail or on the run. But I couldn't worry about them so I just waved to everyone who caught my eye while we sat there on stage.

Our captain waited until everyone had a drink in their hand before firing off into his speech and, like most of them, it wasn't brief. In fact, I really started to struggle in keeping the eyes open as he wittered on and on about how smart everyone was back at Glenvale Central and how me and Alex's glory was only the tip of an iceberg of a renaissance in local policing. Then, as he droned away, I found my eyes drifting as always to rest on that sexy Frieda. She was sitting next to the boss across from us on the stage and was once again looking super foxy in a strapless number. As I ogled, I couldn't help but wonder if that bastard Smithy had managed to peel her dress off with his teeth when they'd gone out on their hot date. Naturally she hadn't said anything to me about it, but I could swear that her smirk had seemed more satisfied than usual afterwards –

My golden thoughts were interrupted by the boss half-turning at his lecturn to talk at me and Alex while he was at it.

'... and so while Detectives – or I should say "Detective Inspectors"! – Mullett and Szabo's methods are undoubtably unorthodox, they are also irrefutably productive!' The boss then raised his water glass to us in a toast, 'And so, I never thought I'd say this, but... cheers, Duane and Alex!'

The whole crowd raised their free drinks likewise and shouted out a whole lot of pub talk to us. While they did this, the boss wiggled the microphone at me as if to say he wanted me to speak. I thought I'd better not disappoint him.

'Now, I've been feeling a bit bad lately,' I said getting up to snatch the mike off him and turning to the crowd, 'coz, for some reason everyone seems to think that I'm the one who cracked all these crooks. And all I hear is; "jeez, you're a smart bastard there, Duane!" or "nice snaffling, fella!" But the sad truth is, I'm just a dumbass really. And the real brains of our outfit have always been locked away inside the mangy swede of my partner; one Alex Szabo,' I said turning to point at him, 'and if anyone's capable of explaining how it all happened for you all, then it ought to be him. So, without further ado, let's hear from the crime sleuth maestro himself...'

With that I handed the microphone over to my partner.

'Ah shuddup, Duane! You're such an egg!' Alex snapped at me then realised that he'd just blurted his comment out into the p.a. system for everyone to hear and that there were titters coming up from the crowd down below. My partner went all red as he tried to explain himself, 'that is to say... er... um... ah...'

I'm afraid that, for someone who performed onstage in front of large crowds most nights, Alex was a pretty lousy public speaker. But I guessed he usually just let his guitar do all the talking for him. So I took pity on him and snatched the microphone back and put it to my own lips again.

'Wise words indeed!' I said giving the crowd a wink which they enjoyed immensely, 'but what I think what Alex meant to say was; thanks, boss for giving us the extra stripe and laying on all the free piss for our mates. But really, it's no big deal. Us two and all the rest of the detectives – well, the patched ones anyway – ' I added with a smirk at Burger who scowled back at me from the front row, 'are out there every day scuffing up some evil to slay. So, youse all can rest easy in your beds – or in whoever's bed you might be!' I chucked in with a wink to heaps of cheers plus a few groans, especially from the boss and Frieda, 'coz Glenvale's finest are always on the case!'

The crowd cheered at this so I punched the air and gave a series of almighty roars into the microphone. Until someone cut the power to the p.a. and the mike was wrenched out of my hands, that is.

After that I was pretty much kicked off the stage to go and mingle with the seething crowd which was fine by me. I threaded my way through slapping backs and nodding my head off until I found someone I knew. The first one I ran into was Kurt who was sitting by himself and nibbling on a lettuce leaf.

'Hey, man, I just wanted to say thanks,' I said slapping him on the shoulder.

'Dude, what for?'

'You know, for saying what you said to me, you know, when I was kinda down about things.'

'Uh... yeah... of course, man,' my friend replied looking a bit confused, 'that's what I'm here for I guess. To be a friend in need. Er... now, what exactly did I say again?'

'You know, that "the best way to predict your future is to create it yourself".

Kurt looked extremely stoked at this news. 'Man! Did I say that? Really? How cool!'

'Yeah, but I think you were quoting someone else from your little black book.'

'Oh, was I?' now Kurt looked real disappointed, 'yeah, I s'pose I must have been,' he sighed, 'ah well, at least it came in handy for you.'

'It did. A lot.'

Then there was a moment of quiet as I tried to figure out how to make him feel better about not having thought up the quote himself. Kurt probably took this the wrong way because he suddenly looked really worried. 'What? Do you want me to say something else?' he asked starting to pat the pockets of his linen jacket, 'I think I've got my book here somewhere...'

'Nah,' I said grinning and putting a calming hand on his arm, 'you've done enough, my friend.'

As I said this I spotted Debs lurking nearby out of the corner of my eye. I nodded my goodbye to Kurt and turned to her.

'Nice speech, Duane,' Debs said greeting me by shaking her head in disgust, 'you're all class! Remind me not to let you be best man at my wedding.'

'Oh, come on, Debs!' I said, 'how could I ever be best man? When everyone knows I'm gonna be the groom at your wedding, sugar babe!'

'Dream on, chump,' my old mate said with the first semblence of a smile I'd seen on her face for what seemed like ages, 'you've had your chance already. You'll just have to settle for peeping through the keyhole at me honeymoon!'

'I'm there in my chair!' I gave her a wink and moved on again only to find that fat Webby stuffing his face with sausie rolls.

'How's the head gasket going?'

'All fixed!' my fat mechanic beamed at me through a mouthful of meat and pastry flakes.

'Awesome!'

'But,' he added waggling a warning fat finger at me, 'we were wheeling it out of the shop and, would you know it, but the front axle happened to snap – '

'No! Noo-oooo!'

' – so we've got to fix that now,' Webby paused to give me a wink, 'but, don't worry, the part's on order as we managed to source one out of Turkmenistan. It should be here within a year, depending on how the local elections go of course.'

I stuffed my fists into my eyeballs and groaned. It couldn't be! I couldn't have such bad luck! He had to be joking!

He was. 'Ha ha! Just kidding ya! You should have seen your face!' Webby was pissing himself at me now, 'what a crack up! Now, don't go sweating your gruts about it, mate. Your car's out the back. Here's the keys, drop off what's left of that Toyota around at the workshop tomorrow.'

Prick! The bastard had really got me then! I was about to leap across and wrap my hands around that treetrunk thick neck, when the sudden appearance of a large and heavy-looking man pushing his way roughly through the crowd towards us stopped me in my tracks. It encouraged Webby to head off equally quickly in the opposite direction too.

'This is from Brian,' the heavy-looking fella growled as he got within arm's reach and thrust a bottle-shaped present wrapped up in a fancy pink ribbon at me. Going by its rectangular outline I was left in little doubt that the contents included a bottle of Jack Daniels. It had a small card attached too. I opened it and recognised my brother's handwriting from my own alleged school essays all those years ago.

"Well done, bro," it said, "let's catch up some time – when you're OFF DUTY!"

I looked up grinning to thank the messenger but he'd already disappeared as quickly as he'd arrived – and I found myself gazing at Rachelle instead.

'Is that for me?' she asked with a wry smile and looking hot as ever in her shoe-horned black gears.

'Sure, babe,' I said ripping off the card and stuffing it in my pocket, 'and I even put on a pretty pink ribbon for ya.' I handed over the bottle to Rachelle but kept hanging onto it after she'd grabbed it, 'and even though it probably ain't port, maybe we can have another game of chess with it sometime?'

The spunkrat smiled at me. 'Sounds like a reasonable request. Though I dunno why you're still bothering with me, it'd be easy enough for you to trade up now you're a big celeb and everything?'

'Hmm, maybe...' I nodded as though considering this seriously, 'though I've still got the same car I've always had.'

'Yeah, I know. I saw it outside.'

'Ah, good. Then that bastard Webby wasn't just taking the piss.'

'I almost didn't recognise it in one piece.'

I grinned at her. 'Or from the outside huh?'

Rachelle just smiled and didn't say anything. I felt that I'd better clear some air.

'About the other day – '

'It's okay, Duane. Debs told me what happened.'

Again I was surprised. 'Yeah? I thought she didn't wanna see you ruined by my sinful ways?'

She smiled again. 'I guess you being a hero and saving her and the wee girls from danger back at the wharf bought you a bit of slack.'

Well, that was good. But I felt like I needed to say some more stuff too. Fool that I was. 'I've also been sort of mooching about after this hippie chick too...'

'Yeah?' Rachelle was not smiling now.

'Yeah. Nothing happened though!'

'But it could have?'

I thought about this before I answered. 'No... I don't think so.' I glanced at Rachelle who I could see was watching me very closely. Scoping for a lie no doubt. But, I thought I was clean this time. 'They don't shave their armpits, you know that eh?'

Rachelle nodded. She knew that.

'And the funny thing was, every time I thought of her, I always thought of you too.'

'Guilty conscience eh?'

'Maybe it was,' I shrugged, 'or maybe it's more like you're the yardstick that all chicks have to measure up against in my mind.'

'I like that one better.'

'Me too.'

There was a moment of quiet while we just looked at each other. Finally Rachelle broke the silence. 'So, are you gonna see her again?'

'Do you want me to?'

'No.'

'Then I won't.'

More quiet. Then it was my turn to break it. 'Do you want to go for a drive in my Valiant? I've got it back, you know.'

Rachelle smiled. 'What, and do a runner from your own party?'

I looked around at the heaving throng, all trying to guzzle down as much free booze as they could before they got the bum's rush out of here. But they were all having a great time too laughing and kidding around like crazy. Ma especially so. She looked to be well tanked up and was getting on famously with one of the wine waiters. So well in fact, that I could see that all hands were below deck.

I chuckled to myself watching them all. 'Why not? It looks like everyone's happy enough here without needing me to hang around stinking up the joint.'

Rachelle took my big hand in her smaller one. 'And how about you, Spunky? Are you happy?'

I looked back at her and grinned. 'I think I'm about to be.'

~~~~

DRIVING THE RIGHT ROAD

When you've had as many shags as I have over the years, you start to get a little coy about ranking them in order after a while. This is because, as time rolls by, you start placing less and less trust in your memory to truly recall the full glory of each one. So, while your most recent shags may seem super duper incredible, you also have a sneaking suspicion that that might just be because you've forgotten a bit of the sheen of some of the earlier ones. And so, to compensate for this, you tend to put each shag on a par with all the others out of respect for all those awesome chicks who have graced your bed in the past.

But, having said all that, this one with Rachelle in the backseat of my car was right up there!

So good in fact, that afterwards I could only lie there completely unable to speak. All I could actually do was stroke Rachelle's hair and think that I was as happy as I've ever been. I think she was feeling the same way and, even though we didn't say as much to each other, we both knew that this level of happiness would only stick around as long as we were together.

With this in mind, we wriggled back into our rags and I fired up the Valiant ready to take her for a spin. It was kind of weird to be finally back in my car after waiting for that fat Webby to finish mucking around with it for so long. It also felt really weird not having the leopardskin seat covers neither as they were still in the Toyota, but you had to have something to look forward to in life.

As I drove, I wound down the window so the fresh air could clear out the cobwebs and free up a bit of room for the old brain to swing a dead cat around. A dangerous pastime sure, but she'd be a pretty quiet life without taking the odd risk here and there.

Thinking about it now, I wasn't sure what had made me go snuffling around after that hippy chick. Looking across at Rachelle – so hot, sexy and handy too – with a little smile still on her face from having her needs met in the backseat, I wondered what had possessed me to want to stray so far away from the farm.

It had been pretty the same for everything else as well ever since I'd stared down Sanjay's shotgun. Fate had decided it wanted to give me a serious working over with an expectation of a full sea change at the end of it. But why it had, I wasn't so sure.

Maybe it was because when you're driving along the highway, every now and then you just need to poke your head out the window. Not just to blow the dust out of your flapping locks, but also to make sure that you're still driving on the right road.

Before Sanjay, I'd always thought that you could only ever be ambitious or happy in life, but you couldn't be both. And yet, here I was now with my promotion and my car, a hot spunkrat at my side, some great mates in the bank and plenty of piss to look forward to. As happy as a pig in shit.

So obviously my personal philosophy needed a bit of a tune up. A boring out of the cylinders needed to be done in order to get more grunt so as to keep up with the pace of some of these life changes.

Well, if that was to be the case, then here's my latest effort;

"Life is a journey in a powerful and stylish V8 vehicle along the glorious Western motorway. And even if you should squeal down the wrong off ramp along the way – you're still the one behind the wheel."

Yeah... I reckon I could live with that!

~~~~

The Black Hawk flew high over the plain. He swooped this way and that dodging the bullets as the hunters fired them from their rifles. And he'd just keep swooping this way and that letting the bullets whizz past his sleek feathers. Until the hunters had fired all their bullets and they had to go home again, broken and beaten.

Then the mighty Black Hawk landed once again on the highest branch of the tallest tree that could be found on the plain. He opened up his beak and let out a throaty cry which echoed out across the territory. And upon hearing this, out came all the rabbits, all the rats, the snakes and the gophers. Out they crawled from all their dark burrows, blinking their eyes in the bright sun. Because now they knew it was safe. And everything was sweet once more...

###

About the author:

Warren lives in New Zealand with his wife and two kids and hopes

you enjoyed reading Duane's adventures as much as he did writing them.

Don't worry, there are more Mullett tales coming.

Connect with Me Online:

Twitter: http://twitter.com/warrenfriend
