Chopper Unchopped (153 page)

In many ways Amy Jo and her Uncle Preston were thinking very much alike. The lounge in the private area of the brothel had a well-stocked bar and Amy Jo conducted all business from there. On the walls of the lounge hung large framed portrait photographs of Ripper Roy Reeves, Raychell Van Gogh, Micky Van Gogh, Karen Phillips and Kid McCall, and a large photo of Amy Jo and Hector Van Gogh. It was clear to see that young Amy Jo and Hector now saw themselves as Micky Van Gogh and Karen the Rabbit Kisser come back to life.

Amy Jo had set up her own heroin network and, as well as controlling the brothel in Cromwell Street, she was setting up a new one in Islington Street. Tuyen Tran Truong was more than pleased to supply Amy Jo with all the gear she could deal. She was a girl but she was smart, she was tough – and she was backed by an insane killer, Hector The Cannibal, who never left her side. It meant Amy Jo had to be treated in a serious manner at all times.

“You can’t possibly be serious, Miss McMahon,” said Amy Jo, listening quietly to the caller at the other end of the line. “No, no. You’re not too old. Yes, I agree. Yes, I’m sure you would. It’s just … yes, yes … it’s just that it’s a bit of a shock. But, well … yes, I’d love to have you over here with me, part time. Yeah, of course. Look, if you’re going bad I’ll even forget the twenty five per cent cut and you can put in a few hours after work each night and it will be all sheer profit. Yeah. No, no, don’t thank me, you were and always will be my favourite teacher. See you then.”

She hung up. Hector Van Gogh was sitting on the couch, staring at her.

“Did I hear that right?” he asked. “Your favourite teacher?”

“Yeah,” said Amy Jo. “Penny McMahon. She taught History and Physical Education at St Guztovs Lady’s College. God, I left when I was 15, and she was easily 26, so she must be 27 or more by now.”

“Is she good looking?” asked Filson Pepper, who was sitting at the bar with Tommy Brown.

Amy Jo smiled. “Well yes, I guess she is. Tall, long legs, very fit and athletic. When she took the girls swimming she would put on a high cut bikini and yes, she put us all to shame. She’s got a body that could get her arrested, in fact. A lot of the girls were in love with her.”

“Tits?” asked Tommy.

“Two of them,” said Amy. “She’d be your idea of a good time, Tommy.”

“So, how come ya looked worried?” asked Hector.

“Well,” said Amy Jo slowly. “Miss McMahon, well, she was always so lady-like and correct. She wouldn’t say shit for a shilling.”

“And?” continued Hector.

“Well,” said Amy, “she is nearly blind, I mean coke bottle glasses. I mean, Miss McMahon couldn’t see three feet in front of her without her big coke bottle glasses. She is gonna look a nice sight sitting in the waiting room in a high cut gee string, a kimono top and stiletto high heels and Mister McGoo coke bottle glasses. This is a brothel, not a joke shop. But how could I say no? The poor bitch is going bad for a quid and needs to earn a few grand quick and heard I had a brothel and rang me. God, what have I done?”

“Ahh, she’s sweet” said Filson. “She’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” said Amy Jo. “It just feels funny. I always looked up to Miss McMahon. I never thought she’d end up working for me in a brothel.”

“Change the topic,” said Tommy. “I found out the name of Zorro’s horse.”

“Bullshit,” said Filson.

“No, dinky di,” said Tommy. “Zorro rode a horse named Amigo.”

The lounge room door swung open and Angelo and Tony Bennett walked in. They’d heard the tail end of the conversation, and jumped straight in.

“Bullshit,” said Angelo. “How would you know that?”

A full scale name-the-horse contest began to rage.

“Right, right, right,” said Tony Bennett. “What was the name of Bonny Prince Charlie’s horse?”

“Ha, ha,” laughed Hector. “Child’s play, he rode a horse named Piper.”

“Okay. What about Hoot Gibson?” said Tony.

“Lightning,” said Hector, quick as lightning.

“Ned Kelly?” said Angelo.

“Donegal,” said Hector.

“Gene Autry?” said Filson.

“Champion,” said Hector.

“Gary Cooper in the 1952 movie
High Noon?”
asked Tony.

“Rogue,” said Hector. “He rode a horse called Rogue.”

“Shit,” said Amy Jo. “You’re good, Hecky.”

“Okay, okay,” said Tommy Brown. “In 1925 Squizzy Taylor bought a racehorse. A six-year-old. It went blind before he got to race it. Name that.”

Hector turned and smiled. “Danny Boy,” he said.

“Shit,” said Tommy.

“Alan Ladd in the 1953 movie
Shane?”
asked Angelo.

“That horse’s name was Shane,” said Hector.

“Bloody hell,” said Amy Jo.

At this point Preston Phillips walked in with Sonia Vonchek, but it didn’t stop the quiz kings of Cromwell street.

“Smokey Dawson?” said Filson.

“Flash,” said Hector, quick as.

“Roy Rogers?” asked Tommy.

“Trigger,” said Hector.

“What’s going on?” asked Sonia.

“Shush,” said Preston. “It’s a guess-the-horse contest.”

Sonia had heard of the famous Collingwood “Guess the Horse” contests, but she never thought she would get to witness one.

“The Lone Ranger?” said Amy Jo.

“Silver,” said Hector.

“Tom Mix?” asked Preston.

“Tony,” said Hector.

“William S. Hart?” asked Preston.

Hector hesitated. “William S. Hart owned 16 quarter horses and a dozen race horses but his favourite was a paint named Patch and an old racehorse named Rockin Chair.”

“Jesus bloody Christ,” said Preston.

“The Cisco Kid?” said Angelo, taking up the running.

“He rode a paint named Bandit.”

“Bullshit,” said Preston. “This is all verbal. No-one knows the answers to these questions.”

“Okay, okay,” said Amy Jo. “Banjo Paterson. What was the name of his favourite horse?” Hector looked bored. “Banjo Paterson was named after a racehorse named Banjo owned by his father. It was also A.B. Paterson’s favourite horse.”

“Shit,” said everyone, shaking their heads in disbelief at the madman with a mind like a steel trap.

Hector was the champ.

“I’ve got one,” said Sonia Voncheck.

“You,” said Tony, “you don’t even come from Collingwood. You come from NSW, don’t ya?”

Sonia nodded. “Yeah, but I still got one for ya. What was the name of Elvis Presley’s horse?”

The room went deathly silent.

“Elvis Presley’s horse?” said Hector.

“Bloody hell, Jesus bloody Christ,” muttered Preston, much impressed.

“Elvis Presley’s horse?”

“Give up?” asked Sonia.

They all nodded.

“Elvis Presley’s favourite horse was a Tennessee Walking horse named Bear,” said Sonia, with a triumphant smile and look of pride on her face.

Hector got to his feet, walked over and held out his hand.

“No-one has ever got me on a Guess-the-Horse Contest. Bloody hell, ya got me with that one.”

Sonia shook the strange young man’s hand and then noticed he had no ears. She bit her lip as she suddenly realised she’d been playing Guess-the-Horse with Hector The Cannibal himself.

SEVERAL hours has passed and the Bennett Brothers had headed off with Filson Pepper and Tommy Brown to the Carringbush Hotel in Langridge Street, Abbotsford, to meet Neville and Normie Reeves for a drink.

Preston Phillips and Sonia Voncheck had been left drinking and chatting with Hector Van Gogh and Amy Jo. Amy didn’t drink alcohol much, as it didn’t mix well with heroin, but the atmosphere was happy. Then a knock came and one of Amy Jo’s new girls announced that there was a visitor for Amy, a Miss McMahon.

“Shit,” said Amy Jo. “Yeah, show her in.”

Penny McMahon walked in to the dimly lit lounge area.

“Miss McMahon,” said Amy, giving her a hug and a kiss. “It’s great to see you.”

Amy introduced her former History and Physical Education teacher to Preston, Sonia and Hector and offered her a drink. Penny accepted a large scotch and coke and swallowed it down in three large gulps. Hector poured another. He was the perfect gentleman, for a homicidal maniac with no ears.

Miss McMahon sat on a bar stool and crossed her legs. Her long dark hair was tied at the back in a tight bun and she wore a skin tight black micro-mini that clung tight to a heaving bosom and showed off a deeply tanned pair of athletic legs. She wore flat-heeled black leather slip ons and looked very sexy and summery. Her mouth was wide and sensuous with full lips and sparkling white teeth and a cute little button nose. The only drawback, just as Amy Jo had tipped, was a pair of Mister McGoo coke bottle glasses that made her eyes look twice as big as they really were. Miss McMahon was clearly terrified, but she mustered her courage and stammered out her story.

“Oh Amy, I don’t know where I should begin. I was engaged to be married. I was living with the guy. I owned my own home as you know – well, the bank owns it really – and my boyfriend left me. Oh, I don’t know,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “I signed contracts, loan agreements and things to help him, but it all went wrong. He vanished and now they want to take my house. I need thirty grand or I’ll lose everything.”

Preston pulled out a plastic bag and laid a long line of pure speed mixed with pure cocaine down on the bar and cut it into three large lines, then snorted one and invited Sonia to snort the other, then Hector. Miss McMahon looked at this and stopped talking and Preston said, “Oh, I’m sorry, where’s my manners?” He laid a full gram line down and invited Miss McMahon to partake. Much to Amy Jo’s surprise the school teacher snorted the lot up in two goes and thanked Preston, then proceeded to pour out her problems to Amy.

“Look,” said Amy. “You can pull $200 cash an hour here.”

Miss McMahon added it up. “So if I start at about 5.30 or 6 in the afternoon and finish at about 9 or 9.30 or maybe 10 at night, that’s six to eight hundred dollars a night.”

“Well, yes,” said Amy. “My girls are all flat out busy. I don’t see why you wouldn’t be.”

“If you worked all Friday night till 3 or 4 in the morning and Saturday night the same you could pull, oh, $2000 in a night.”

Miss McMahon’s mouth opened wide. For that matter Sonia’s eyes opened wide in shock.

“Beats school teacher pay don’t it, Miss McMahon?”

“It certainly does, Amy.”

“My goodness, Miss McMahon,” said Amy. “You do realise that you’re going to have to, as our American cousins are so fond of saying, get down and get dirty.”

“Oh yes, Amy, I’m not totally naive.”

“It’s all condom work unless I say that a bloke is okay and I’d like you to do him without.”

Miss McMahon looked at Amy. She was no longer the giggling schoolgirl. She had taken on a hard, cold edge that was almost evil, and definitely seemed much older and wiser than her years. Miss McMahon was trying not to look at Hector. She was fascinated by him, but she didn’t want to stare.

“I perfectly understand,” said Miss McMahon.

“Now, there is an alarm button in each room and the waiting lounge and bar area. Any trouble and Hector will come running and if not Hecky then someone else. Your personal protection is top priority.”

Preston Phillips was proud of the way his niece had grown up, yet in his heart he was ill at ease. If it wasn’t Stella, then it must be Amy. Could he be wrong? Amy had built a whole new Collingwood crew, a whole new baby doll empire. The old Collingwood crew was being killed off and arrested, while Amy Jo was building her own empire, just like the Rabbit Kisser had, years before.

Preston loved his niece but he was worried. One person in the room who wasn’t worried any more was Miss McMahon. The speed and coke had kicked right in, where the school ma’am was concerned.

“Well, Amy, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to try my luck right now,” she said brightly. And with that she stood up and pulled her black stretch dress down over her boobs and over her hips and kicked it onto the couch. She was standing there in her shoes and a black high-cut thong gee string. Her tits were standing at full attention. In fact the speed and cocaine were working so well that her nipples were like puppy dogs noses.

“What do I do now?” she said, as if she couldn’t wait.

“Well,” said Amy, “come with me.”

She took the school teacher out and showed her the lounge waiting area.

“Jody!” called Amy. “This is Penny. Show her what’s what. She can use the blue room. Show her where the gear is, condoms, KY Jelly, towels. Shower after each job,” said Amy.

“Of course,” said Miss McMahon. She had always been a stickler for hygiene.

At that point old Mr Ditchburn walked in from the reception area. He was in his sixties and liked Greek. The old bastard was hung like a small horse. Amy thought she’d toss Miss McMahon in at the deep end. “Mr Ditchburn,” said Amy. “Oh hello, Miss Phillips,” said the old gentleman as he eyed off the glamour girl with the coke bottle glasses.

“This is Penny, she is new and you’ll be her first. She is so fantastic that she comes with a money back promise of total satisfaction. Okay?”

Penny McMahon looked surprised but also flattered. The speed cocaine mixture had jumbled her mind and emotions and she was feeling uncommonly randy.

“Okay Miss McMahon, the Blue Room and put a smile on Mr Ditchburn’s face. He likes a full hour and tips twenty on top of the $200 if you do a good job.”

Penny McMahon took Mr Ditchburn by the hand and off they went.

“Ohh Amy,” said Jody. “That was very naughty. That old goat is a bum bandit, hung like a horse, that poor sheila. Better have a bum like a bucket or bloody good medical insurance, ha ha.”

“Well,” said Amy. “I’m doing her a good turn. She may as well learn that it’s not all peaches and cream. I had to learn it the hard way. So will she.”

Jody nodded, remembering that when she first started she was invited to a Buck’s Party only to find out that she was the bloody party. Somebody had told her, “Don’t worry love, ya got all night and there are only forty of us.”

PRESTON Phillips went home and went into his backshed and took six grams of pure heroin and six grams of another white powder, prussic acid, and mixed the two together, then added two tablespoons full of liquid Condy’s crystals, which turned the mixture red.