Chopper Unchopped (121 page)

‘WE gotta hit them before they get us,’ Leigh Kinniburgh said. Billy didn’t say anything straightaway. He was thinking.

The pair had decided to avoid regular drinking haunts like the French Knickers Hotel and had taken to drinking at the Vine Hotel in Bridge Road, and Squizzy Taylor’s Pub in Gertrude Street, Fitzroy.

Blueberry Hill had let The Face carry a handgun. Two, in fact. A .38 calibre automatic and a sawn-off double barrel shotgun. Leigh Kinniburgh walked about with the handgun on him, and saw himself as Blueberry Hill’s personal bodyguard.

Billy, on the other hand, was a realist. He saw The Face as a mental case with a loaded gun.

Leigh was rattling on about the coming blue. He was half nervous and half bloodthirsty, which meant he was as toey as a broken sandal. ‘Needs must when the Devil drives. We gotta attack the bloody Morning Star and get in first,’ he said for the third time in two minutes.

‘Anita said as long as I act in self defence she can get me out of anything,’ Billy said.

‘That old nympho,’ laughed Leigh, putting a hole in his manners. ‘She got my old man out of a shooting charge 15 years ago. Shit, I was two or three years old and she was 25 or 30 then, I reckon.’

Billy scowled. ‘Anita Von Bibra is a very lovely lady and I’ll break the jaw of any man who speaks ill of her,’ he grated. He had a thing about her the way some blokes in the boob were bent about Ita Buttrose.

Leigh back-pedalled at 100 miles an hour. ‘Oh sorry, Billy. I didn’t say she wasn’t a nice lady – just a bit long in the tooth, that’s all.’

Billy looked down at Leigh. ‘Long in the tooth, eh? You’ll have no teeth if ya keep going. Okay?’

‘Sorry, Billy,’ Leigh said meekly.

‘Anyway,’ said Blueberry, trying to look dignified. ‘As I was saying, as long as we can claim self defence we can beat any blue in the book.’

‘Yeah well,’ said Leigh. But he was a bit drunk and he couldn’t help tossing in a smartarse remark. ‘I guess we can always attack ’em with Anita’s walking stick …’

 Leigh didn’t see the punch. And he didn’t feel it. So when he woke up in the back of an ambulance, he didn’t remember it. All he knew was that his .38 calibre handgun and all his top teeth were missing. Then he fainted again.

Billy, meanwhile, had decided to face the music alone and unarmed. One man against a small army. Of course, he’d swear that he was the victim of a gang attack, thus maintaining his self defence. He knew that Leigh Kinniburgh was in hospital falling in and out of a coma, and he felt a bit concerned and hoped he hadn’t hit Leigh too hard. Shit, one left hook to the top teeth shouldn’t cause that much damage.

Leigh Kinniburgh must have a paper thin skull. Bloody pansy. Poor little Bobby Mick, he thought. Billy really missed Bobby Mick. Why couldn’t it have been Leigh instead of poor Bobby? He was getting angry again, thinking about it. These turds in Collingwood had to be dealt with, and the sooner the bloody better.

Billy rang Anita at home and warned her he could be facing arrest within the next few hours. That’s if he was lucky. Otherwise he would be in hospital, or dead.

Anita was what lawyers and police describe as ‘gravely concerned.’ In this case, for her favorite client’s skin. Apart from anything else, she hadn’t had a chance to have her wicked way with him yet.

‘Please don’t do anything rash, Billy,’ she pleaded. ‘As your lawyer I must advise you against rash action.’

‘But if they attack me, Anita. I can act in self defence, can’t I?’ Billy asked.

‘Of course, darling,’ she cooed in the sort of voice that $200 an hour buys. ‘Act in self defence only and all will be well.’

MELANIE Wells lived next door to Billy Hill in Lennox Street. She was heading out her front door the same time Billy was walking out of his. She stopped to look at him. He was her hero. She had secretly loved Blueberry Hill since she was a little girl. She watched him kiss his Auntie M on the cheek and then closed the door.

‘Hi ya, Mel,’ said Billy.

‘Hi ya, Billy’ said the starstruck 15-year-old.

‘Where are you off to, all dressed up this time of night?’ asked Billy. ‘Ya look good enough to eat.’ Melanie only wished he meant it. She’d sit on his face at a moment’s notice, but Billy treated her like a baby sister, always polite, thoughtful, kind, protective and so politically correct, much to her annoyance.

‘I’m going to the end of year dance at school,’ she said. ‘Where you going, Billy? Are ya gonna blue them dogs in Hoddle Street?’

‘How did you know about that?’ asked Billy, surprised. 

‘Shit,’ said Melanie, ‘every man and his dog knows.’

‘Yeah,’ said Billy, winking mysteriously. ‘But no-one knows when, hey kid?’

She wasn’t so smart after all.

‘Ya wanna come to the dance with me, Billy?’ she wheedled in her cutest little voice.

Billy didn’t want to offend his cheeky hot pants little neighbor. ‘Maybe I’ll pop in later tonight,’ he said. ‘What time does it go till?’

‘Midnight,’ she said.

‘Okay, maybe later. I gotta go now.’

She was excited. The prospect of Blueberry Hill showing up at her school and impressing hell out of all her school chums filled her with a delicious anticipation.

‘See ya later, Billy,’ she purred. She’d seen them do it on the soaps a million times. ‘Yeah, see ya, Titch,’ said Billy. Such a smooth-talking bastard. Melanie pouted. ‘I wish Billy wouldn’t call me that,’ she thought to herself as she pushed her chest out to show him that she was anything but a Titch these days. But Billy was blind to her ample charms. He put his giant hand on the top of her head and ruffled up her hair, then turned and walked away.

‘God, what a fantastic bloke,’ she thought to herself. He was everything she ever wanted and he didn’t even know she was alive. Well, he did, but not in the way she dreamed of, and that cute little boy habit Billy had of ruffling up her hair made her feel like the fish John West rejected with all the goodies to go with it.

But instead of Billy taking her in his strong arms and holding her close and kissing her, all he did was call her Titch and ruffle her hair.

Melanie sighed, then headed off to the dance.

ROCKIN’ Ronny MacSladdon, Ray Bennett, Terry Taylor, Steve Finney, Ronnie Cox, Fatty Kane and Kevin Toy put their drinks down and walked out of the Morning Star Hotel. The night was still a pup and they were out to make the most of it. They started walking down Hoddle Street.

They were on their way to meet Keith Kerr at the Clifton Hill Hotel in Queens Parade. There was a full moon out and the night was clear and warm. Everyone was in high spirits. Plans had been set in place to even up on Blueberry Hill once and for all as a payback for Skinny Kerr and Peter Thorpe. He’d be dead in the next 24 hours – if all went well.

Old Keith had it all in hand. His motto was that no-one went against Collingwood and lived, no matter how good they could fight … that’s why God invented guns, he reckoned.

Ray Bennett was the first to notice him get out of the car. He couldn’t believe it.

‘Hey boys, cop a look at this,’ he hissed to his mates.

‘Jesus,’ said Kevin Toy, who had a remarkable grasp of the obvious. ‘It’s Blueberry Hill.’

Billy had caught a lift with old ‘Chang’ Heywood, a local Richmond knockabout. Chang was always willing and ready to drive Billy any place he wanted to go in his old 1967 Hillman Arrow. Billy walked straight across Hoddle Street and towards the group. Even though there was seven of them, the whole crew went into a state of shock.

‘He’s not going to fight us all, is he?’ whispered Rockin’ Ronny, as if he suspected that’s exactly what was going to happen.

Terry Taylor pulled out a small hand gun.

‘Put it away,’ snapped Kevin Toy. ‘We can take him. Seven against one, for God’s sake.’

‘Bullshit,’ yelled Taylor, who didn’t give a shit about the odds. ‘Kill the bastard.’

He aimed the little .32 calibre revolver at Billy Hill and pulled the trigger. The first two shots missed, and Billy just kept walking towards them, as cool as you like. The third shot clipped his cheek bone but still he kept coming. The fourth slug hit him in the upper right side of the chest and the fifth went wild. The piece only held five shots. They were all gone, but Billy wasn’t. He was still coming straight at them.

Now the crew was really worried. ‘What now?’ yelled Ronny MacSladdon.

‘Let’s get him,’ said Kevin Toy.

The gang charged forward toward Billy Hill. Their mistake was in trying to take on a freak on his own terms. Blueberry smiled like a grey nurse in a school of tuna. As the gang reached him Billy’s fists swung like Jack O’Toole swinging his axe on ‘World of Sport’, and they were about as deadly.

Kevin Toy hit the ground first, out cold with a broken jaw and cheek bone, then cracking his skull on the footpath.

Then there were six.

Rockin’ Ronny ran a knife into Billy’s guts but a left hand that would have dropped a bullock shattered his skull. MacSladdon fell down dead. Billy could kill with either hand once he got speed up.

Then there were five.

Ronnie Cox grabbed Billy from behind and gouged his left eye ball, while Fatty Kane moved in with a broken bottle, cutting Billy’s face to ribbons. Steve Finney stabbed Billy in the chest with another broken bottle, but it was a mistake. Billy reached out and put his right hand around Finney’s neck and squeezed, and caught Fatty Kane on the chin with a left hook. Fatty lost interest, and went to sleep on the spot.

Then there were three. Billy still had Steve Finney’s now unconscious body, flopping around like a rag doll in washing machine.

Terry Taylor and Ray Bennett had been standing back. Billy spun around, still holding Finney by the neck, and smashed Ronnie Cox three crashing blows to the skull with his left hand. Ronnie was no different from anyone else; he went to the ground, and stayed there.

Then there were two.

Billy looked down and realised that Steve Finney was dead. He’d strangled him. Then he looked at Terry Taylor and Ray Bennett and smiled. Bennett froze, but Taylor turned and ran.

Billy started to laugh then spat blood into the face of a now crying Ray Bennett. He fell to his knees and begged: ‘I’m sorry, Billy. Don’t hit me! Don’t hit me. Please Billy, please don’t hit me.’

A crowd of onlookers had gathered, and Billy knew he’d won in front of witnesses. Ray Bennett was the luckiest man in Melbourne.

Billy Blueberry turned and staggered back to Chang’s old car and got in. Old Chang took off.

‘Jesus, Billy, you fuckin’ killed em,’ he babbled. ‘You beat ’em all. God I never seen nothin like it. Billy, you’re a fucking legend. You’ll go down in history.’

Billy coughed up blood.

‘Hell, Billy, you’re pissin’ blood. You’re fuckin’ dying. Don’t die on me kid, don’t die, hang on, I’ll get you to hospital, hang on.’ Poor old Chang was panicking, and you couldn’t blame him.

‘Nah,’ said Billy. ‘Forget the hospital, take me to Gleadell Street.’

‘What are ya talking about, kid?’ Chang yelled over the howl of the motor and the whine in the gearbox. He was wringing the revs out of the old Hillman, trying to get his mate to the hospital.

‘I promised a little girl I’d take her to a dance,’ said Billy with what passed for a smile. It wasn’t a good look. His face was covered in blood already, and there was plenty more where that was coming from.

‘Kid,’ said Chang, ‘you’re dying and you need help.’

‘Just get me to the dance on time,’ said Billy with a laugh that made an ominous rattle in his chest. It was filling with blood.

‘The Girls School. C’mon, ya silly old bugger. Drive.’

Chang put his foot down to the metal even harder and got the old Hillman Arrow up to its top speed of 60 mph. Billy was holding his guts and chest. He knew he didn’t have long to go, but he didn’t want his Auntie M to see him like this and he didn’t know where to go. Why not go to the dance? He smiled to himself. Titch would be glad to see him.

Chang pulled his old car up outside the college. Billy opened the door and stumbled out. Chang took off, heading for Lennox Street to tell Billy’s Auntie Muriel. She had to be told.

Billy walked into the school ground, trying to keep the stagger out of his gait. A bunch of girls were standing in a group outside having a sneaky smoke.

‘Hey, it’s Blueberry Hill,’ said one girl. Then she looked harder and yelped, ‘God, look at him, he’s bleeding.’

‘He’s bleeding to death,’ said another.

‘Get Titch,’ Billy ordered. His voice rattled from the blood in his throat.

‘Who?’ asked one of the girls.

‘Melanie Wells,’ Billy croaked. He was trying to yell.

Two girls ran inside as Billy fell to his knees, then slumped backward. His eyes went up toward the big full moon. It was a nice night to die, he thought. Warm summer’s night. Full moon. Only he was starting to feel a bit cold.

Melanie came out.

‘Billy,’ she shrieked.

She ran to him and knelt down and held his head in her hands. He lifted himself up and rested his head in her lap. The blood got on her party dress. ‘Hi ya, Titch,’ he said. ‘I won the blue. Ya should have seen it.’

The music had stopped and the school yard was filling up with school girls, all either crying or whispering the name ‘Blueberry Hill’. They all knew he was dying.

Teachers called the police and the ambulance. Billy coughed up more blood and Melanie tried to wipe his bleeding face with her little lace hanky.

‘Don’t die Billy, the ambulance is coming,’ she whispered.

‘Nah, Titch. I’m dead,’ said Billy.

‘Don’t say that, Billy. No-one can kill you. Ya can’t die, please Billy. Don’t die, please Billy. Don’t die.’

The girl was sobbing. She held her face to his.

‘Don’t die Billy, please don’t die,’ she recited over and over.

Billy coughed and started to recite the prayer his mother had taught him. ‘And now I lay me down to sleep,’ he mumbled.

‘No, Billy, stop it!’ screamed the girl. Her face was wet with tears.

But Billy kept going. He was gasping now.

‘I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and if I should die before I wake.’