Chopper Unchopped (154 page)

He left the mixture overnight to dry. In the morning it had turned into a pink rock powder. Even to the trained junkie eye it looked like the rare and highly prized pink rock heroin. Preston had tried the same trick with battery acid, but it would burn the tongue if it got the finger tongue taste test. Prussic acid, however, was a sneaky and deadly killer.

He gathered together six full grams and put it into a plastic press top coin bag and folded it up. He was going to play a wild hunch. He took a small piece of pretty white card and wrote on it “To Amy Jo, here’s a little pink for the pussy cat, warmest regards, Doc.”

Preston knew Doc Holliday had a dog in the camp and the word was it was a female on the inner circle. Right on the inside. It could be Tessa Kinsella or Sandie Toy, Gaja Jankoo or even Muriel Hill, but Preston’s sixth sense told him it was his own little niece. She had everything to gain by the fall of the old guard, as she was building her own empire from the floor up.

Too many things didn’t add up. Doc Holliday would hardly ring Stella and tell her daughter “Doc rang”, not if Stella was a secret informer.

Amy Jo had set her own mother up. Amy Jo stood to inherit the family home in Wellington Street. Preston shook his head. You don’t get mum knocked to get the family home, but you might if you know the whole crew are searching for a spy and you want to cover your tracks.

Preston took the card and the plastic bag of pink poison and put it into a parcel pack and addressed it to Amy Jo at the Cromwell Street address. If she knew Doc Holliday and trusted him she would be delighted. If she didn’t she would wonder what’s going on and toss it. It was ten to one against working, but it was a game Preston felt should be played.

It was the perfect trap; Amy Jo would only be poisoned if she was guilty. That is, unless she was greedy or stupid enough to use a “gift” of smack from someone she didn’t know.

“HERE’S 900 Omega Swiss Seamaster wrist watches as worn by James Bond in the movie
Golden Eye
, said Fatty La Rocque.

He paused, then made the pitch. “Only 200 bucks apiece, and they’re worth over a grand each.”

“I’ll give ya a grand and a free pop at one of the girls,” said Amy Jo.

Fatty shuffled about. “How about $1200 and a free pop?” he said.

“Try $800 and a jar of vasaline and a dirty magazine,” smirked Amy.

“Okay,” said Fatty, “a grand and a free go at one of the girls.”

It was 7 pm and Penny McMahon’s third night at work and much to Amy Jo’s surprise the coke bottle glasses seemed to be some sort of sexual novelty, as the school teacher was being jack hammered from 6 pm to 10 pm. It was $120 for half an hour and $200 an hour and when told she only had an hour left before she knocked off three punters waiting for Penny practically started a fist fight in the waiting area, arguing over who was going to do the business with her. Much to Amy Jo’s further surprise Penny never said a word about Mr Ditchburn’s rear end demands, and he was back again asking for Penny the next night. Amy Jo suspected that the prim and proper schoolmistress must have had more than a plum in the mouth at some stage. She was a bit of a dark horse, all right.

Amy took Fatty into the waiting lounge area. Jody turned her nose up at the giant overblown fat slob and three of the other beach girls looked horrified. Fatty had put on extra weight since Amy herself had had to deal with the massive pig when she was just a school girl cracker. Penny walked out of the Blue Room and kissed Mr Ditchburn goodbye.

Shit, thought Amy Jo, three nights running, you shifty bucket arse slut.

“Penny, can I see you?”

“Oh yes, Amy,” said Miss McMahon.

“You wait in the Blue Room, Fatty.”

“Oh yeah, here ya go,” and Amy handed the fat man a roll of hundred dollar notes. Fatty scurried off to the Blue Room. Penny walked into the private office lounge area. She was now wearing stock standard stiletto high heels and high cut silk French knickers and nothing else. Her hair still in a tight bun at the back and coke bottle glasses in place.

Amy Jo closed the door.

“Try one of these on,” said Amy. “Omega Seamaster as worn by Agent 007, ha ha.”

“Oh my goodness,” said Penny. “This is a very expensive wrist watch.”

“Ya don’t mind a man’s watch, do ya?” said Amy.

“Oh no, how lovely. It fits beautifully.”

“Yeah,” said Amy. “It’s yours. Just check the big pig’s plumbing and make sure his pipes not blocked up and that’s that.”

Penny McMahon looked puzzled. “You mean this expensive watch is mine if I attend to the large gentleman?”

“Yes,” said Amy, “and the quicker the better.”

“Excuse me,” said Penny. “May I ask a question?”

Amy nodded.

“Is this watch stolen?”

Amy laughed. There were 900 wrist watches lying on the couch, and you didn’t have to be a Rhodes Scholar to work out how they’d got there.

“Yes, Penny,” Amy answered, trying to keep a straight face.

“Oh, I see,” said Penny with a giggle. “This is fun, isn’t it?”

As she was about to leave to attend to Fatty La Rocque she turned and whispered, “Do you think I could have another line of that marvellous little pick-me-up?”

Amy went to the bar, pulled out an ounce gag and laid down a fat gram line of speed-cocaine mix. Penny promptly picked up a straw from the bar and snorted the lot in three goes.

“I know this is expensive, Amy. But one hand washes the other. I do you a favour. You do me a favour.” Penny looked serious indeed.

“Amy, any favour at all. You only have to ask.”

“Okay,” said Amy. “Polish the pig off and get the steaming great tub of lard out of here.”

Penny stood to attention and snapped a comic salute. “Jawohl, mein herr, as they say in Germany,” and with that the half blind school teacher giggled and wiggled her way to the Blue Room.

Amy looked at the loot on the couch and smiled to herself. There’s 900 watches worth over a grand each. That’s $900,000 worth, she thought. In fact, more, as the watches went for up to 1800 bucks each. Fatty was a dreamer. He was lucky to get a bloody grand and a free root. One thing was for sure. Once he was silly enough to bring them in to show Amy he wasn’t walking out with them. Hector liked to linger near the reception area, and one scream from Amy and Hec would kill Fatty or anyone else. For that matter he’d be quite happy to kill anybody at all for any reason at all. Or none. That was why Hector was Amy’s best best buddy and worth his weight in gold teeth.

As for Fatty La Rocque, he was an idiot but he got some good stuff and he’d sell it for nothing. All he cared about was piss, pussy and hot meat pies.

He showed up once with a stolen coin collection valued at over 500 grand and Amy took it off him for 500 bucks and told Jody to give him a quick French polish, an experience Jody said she did not wish to repeat, although it repeated on her for several hours.

After ten minutes Penny was back in the lounge area.

“Well,” she said, “what a nice chap.”

Amy looked at the posh school teacher as if she was totally insane. “You liked Fatty?”

“Hmmmm,” said Penny. “Evidently Mr La Rocque comes across some very nice discount items.”

“Yeah, well,” said Amy. “Any discount items the pig gets is mine. You can have a pick out but don’t ever get too smart. The only items he gets to come across around here is you, sweetheart.”

Miss McMahon flushed red with embarrassment and a touch of fear. “I certainly wouldn’t do anything to undermine either you or your business interests, Amy, I’m very grateful for the way you have helped me.”

“It’s Friday night tomorrow. Will you want to work all night?” asked Amy.

“Oh yes, I think so. My bank manager and creditors are counting on it. But I think I may need a little chemical helper,” she added, meaning the amphetamine cocaine mix.

“That’s no problem. All ya want, whenever ya want,” said Amy Jo. She thought for a moment, then continued. “Look, how would ya like to do me a favour and earn yourself a bit of serious money?”

Miss McMahon smiled. “Any favour at all for no money at all, I’ve said that. But for money, I’ll put my heart and soul into it.”

“I’ve got a bloke coming to see me tomorrow night. I’ve mentioned you to him. I reckon he would like to spend a bit of time with you. I want you to be nice, really nice. I’ll be straight with you, Penny. I’ve got enemies, pretending to be friends. This bloke is a big enemy pretending to be a big friend. Serious action needs to be taken, but this bastard is a raging bull. Now this is what I want ya to do.”

“I’m all ears,” said Penny.

“Shush, ya stupid cow. Don’t mention ears, Hector is out there,” hissed Amy.

BIG Geoff Twane was the last seriously dangerous raging bull, as Amy Jo put it, in the Collingwood Crew’s old guard. A 24-stone strong gunnie who could fight like ten men. He attended the brothel at Cromwell Street on Amy’s invitation to check out the school teacher but, as Amy knew, he wouldn’t drop his guard by staying around and relaxing. He would have a drink and a laugh and a joke, then grab Penny McMahon and vanish into the night. Penny was waiting in stretch micro mini and flat heeled slippers, all tits and legs, hair in a bun and coke bottle glasses. Big Geoff Twane was as drunk and as loud as ever.

“Where’s mad Hector?” said Geoff. “Where is the no-eared nut case?”

“He’s at his mum’s place,” said Amy. “He’s not here tonight.”

“Just as well,” said Geoff. “I don’t like that mental case. Well, so this is Penny. Stand up, darlin’, let’s see ya. Oh yeah, big girl isn’t she?” he said, like Bart Cummings looking at a racehorse.

Penny smiled.

“Anyway Amy, I’m not hanging around. I gotta tell ya, kid, I like ya tossin’ one of ya molls my way but I don’t bloody well trust ya and ya can either kill me or cop it sweet. Ya under bloody suspicion as far as I’m bloody well concerned, okay?”

With that the big man took Penny by the hand and walked out. Drug money had allowed big Geoff Twane to indulge himself and he jumped into his pride and joy, a 1955 model Ford Thunderbird. Penny got in beside him.

“Are ya clean?” asked Geoff.

“I certainly am,” said Penny.

“I mean no AIDS, no VD, no hep?”

“Certainly not,” said Penny.

“Me neither,” said Geoff, “so I won’t use a condom.”

“Well, I think we should,” said Miss McMahon.

“Ever had a broken jaw?” said Big Geoff.

“No, I haven’t,” said Penny. “And yes, bare back would be fine by me.” Geoff laughed and started the car up. “I reckon we’re going to get on fine,” he said.

He drove the big car around as if he was paranoid, then pulled up in Oxford Street. It was pitch black.

“Okay,” he said, “get out and get on ya hands and knees on the front seat.”

“What on earth do you mean,” said Penny.

“Get out and I’ll show ya, bloody dumb cow.”

The two got out then Geoff stopped. He was full of speed and booze and quite muddled in the mind as to what to do.

“How tall are you?” he said suddenly.

“Well,” said Penny, trying to be polite. “About as tall as you.”

She was, in fact, taller.

“Right, KY Jelly, have ya got any?” said Geoff.

“Yes, I have,” said Penny.

“Okay, pull that dress up, get ya strides off and oil ya ring up.”

This was hardly high romance, but Penny blindly obeyed.

“Okay, spin around and touch ya toes,” said Geoff.

“Maybe if I lean forward and support myself against the front of the car,” said Penny.

“Whatever,” said Geoff, as he dropped his pants and rested his .45 calibre Gold Cup automatic on the road.

“Just get ya arse in the air, I’m coming in.”

Penny was left in no doubt as to his intent and she duly applied an extra large amount of the jelly that was soon to be penetrated with scant regard for the personal feelings or pain involved.

“Right,” said Geoff “arse up, head down.”

Penny stood with her back to the man, bent forward leaning against the front of the car, her legs straight and apart and her voluptuous bum aimed in the big man’s direction. With a few preliminary thrusts he had hoisted the jolly roger inside her, and making a total pig of himself he reached forward and took hold of her large knockers while ramming a goodly portion of his jelly-coated jumbo in and up, then a moment’s withdrawal before another inward attack.

“Ohh, you’re a good fu …”

He never got to finish the sentence. He lost interest when a sawn-off shotgun took off the back of his skull. The shot was deafening. Penny felt something like hot water hit her back, then the weight of the big man as he collapsed over her. Then the strangest thing: she felt him climax deep inside her. He got his brains blown out, then he blew his load. He was coming and going at the same time.

Penny felt the body pulled from her, then someone took her hand and together they ran off into the night. School teaching was never like this.

IN 1942 John Curtin was Prime Minister, World War 2 was looking rather serious for all concerned and a plodder called Colonus won the Melbourne Cup on a wet track, paying a staggering 33 to 1. Johnny Reeves had vanished forever, and his broken-hearted wife gave birth to a baby boy she named Roy.

Betty Brown was now 21 years old and it was commonly agreed that she was a short-priced favorite to be the most luscious-looking glamour girl in Collingwood. She patterned her looks on the movie actress Jane Russell, although with her honey-coloured hair there was a touch of Joan Blondell. Betty struck it lucky. After Big Shirley Phillips had been arrested for the McSwiggin murder in 1939 by a fearless crime buster called Wild Bill Holliday – and convicted and hanged – Betty had taken control of the Kitten Club and set about making her mark, tripling the club’s profits.

Luck cuts two ways. Just as Betty started to have good luck, Big Shirl’s bedmate Kalan Reeves ran into a bit of the other sort. The same year Big Shirl was arrested, poor Kalan was found in a back lane beaten to death. It seemed someone had taken to him with a length of iron pipe and worked him over for what the newspapers claimed was the best part of twenty minutes. In any case, it was a while, because every single bone in his body had been totally egg-shelled.