Chopper Unchopped (96 page)

She pointed at my face in the picture. ‘Yeah, there you are, Geoff’ she said. The fact the real Geoff was next to me in the photograph didn’t jog her memory. She pointed at him and said: ‘That’s the bloke who shot Kiwi Kenny Woods, and the other guy is Johnny Go-Go. Remember him? He runs the Caballero night club in Collingwood.’

‘I don’t remember this photo at all,’ I said. ‘Where was it taken?’

‘Mickey’s disco in St Kilda,’ she said. ‘Shit, I took the photo.’

I shook my head and bunged on a puzzled look. ‘I must be losing my memory,’ I said. ‘I can’t remember this at all.’

‘Ya remember me, but, don’t ya Geoff?’ she said in her best come-on voice.

I turned to her and smiled. ‘Yeah, of course I do, princess.’

Then I looked at the photo again. Johnny Go-Go was part of the Collingwood crew, worked for Ripper Roy. It was Johnny Go-Go who paid me to shoot Kiwi Kenny and his two mates. It was all starting to come back.

Mickey’s disco on the Lower Esplanade – Bob a Job Flanigan’s old club. Christopher Dean ‘Bob a Job’ Flanigan – so-called big deal hit man. His cousin Victor ‘Vicky’ Mack did all the killings. Flanigan took all the bows. Flanigan was a weak as piss poof, if you asked me. Vanished in Sydney. Spit on the dog. But we used to go down to his club years ago.

‘What were you doing back then, princess?’ I said to Kerry.

‘Dancing,’ she said. ‘Cage dancing, then I went to work for Johnny Go-Go and then La Grecca hired me to work the King Street Clubs.’

Shit, she knew ’em all. At last I understood her confusion over my identity. She had spent years thinking that the bloke in the photo who was me was Geoff Twane. This child was a bit puzzled in the brain box, but she was an after-dark dancer, not a nine to five rocket scientist. The whole world she lived in was a blur of faces and strobe lights. I told Kerry that I thought she might be right about Carolyn. She smiled and threw her arms around me. Her bathrobe fell open as she started to kiss my neck and face and before I knew where I was, she had dragged me into her bedroom. What could a man do?

The whole bedroom was like a bondage and domination chamber – more whips, chains, and leather gear than the average stable. I noticed a large photo on the wall of Kerry displaying her big boobs, with a man either side of her.

‘Yeah’ she said. ‘There’s me brother Garry and old Tex Lawson.’

Shit, I thought, this chick is well and truly connected. But that’s Melbourne as far as the criminal world goes. Everyone is either related to a friend or the friend of a relative or screwing the sister of a friend or the wife of a relative. The Melbourne underworld was one giant daisy chain and I suspected that Kerry had either met ’em all or screwed ’em all. No wonder faces and names became a blur in her mind. She wasn’t paid to pay attention to faces. Her expertise was a bit further south.

Tex Lawson was dead and the guy in the photo wasn’t Tex Lawson, it was Chris Flanigan. This chick knew ’em all living and dead. She was just losing the plot a bit and mixing up the name tags in her head. Lucky for me.

We made love for the rest of the afternoon. She was a sex machine, like hot wet marshmallow. The only thing was she started calling me ‘Jim’ when she got excited.

I said nothing. Geoff? Jimmy? Who cares? Million-dollar sex with the mentally-ill was still million-dollar sex.

I told her I’d meet her at the club later that night – and not to mention my real name to Carolyn.

‘Okay, baby,’ she said. ‘See you then. Are ya right for money?’

I said, ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks anyway.’

She smiled and kissed me goodbye and I walked away.

I MADE my way to the Australia Hotel, the pub across the road from the Mexican Madonna nightclub, and sat by the window just drinking and thinking. It’s true that I’d gone a bit mentally insane since I got out and so much had happened to me. I was trying to nut it all out in my brain. I thought to myself, ‘what have I got myself into and who the hell are all these people?’ Yeah, I guess I could just walk away, but I was being pulled towards them by some strange force. I knew I’d be back at the Mexican Madonna that night, that I had to see Carolyn again.

A bloke walked into the bar I recognised from prison. Felix Furneaux. Everyone knew him as Frenchy. A good guy and a nut case and I was bloody glad to see him.

‘Hey, Frenchy,’ I called out softly.

Frenchy spun around. He smiled when he recognised me.

‘How’s it goin’, brother?’ he said.

We shook hands. He had got out of jail that morning and had $20 in his pocket. I bought him several drinks, then pulled out a thousand bucks and handed it to him.

‘Jesus mate, thanks. Bloody hell, I mean that!’

Frenchy was as pleased as punch. He wasn’t a big thinker, but he could use his noggin when it counted. He was a head butt specialist, a top street fighter and a very tough, hard little man, but earning a quid wasn’t his big go. Frenchy Furneaux spent his whole life up to his neck in violence whether inside jail or out of it. Money in his pocket wasn’t part of the deal. He was a simple bloke, honest in his way, and good natured. But above all, he was loyal. The sling I gave him was money well spent. For a grand in the hand and free drinks he’d follow you to the grave, and punch on with the devil himself for the hell of it if you wanted him to.

I’d fallen in love with Carolyn the day after I got out – and little Frenchy had just fallen in love with me. I knew I’d done the smart thing. Up to now I’d been on my own, totally one out. Now I had back up. I decided to cement the partnership by showing Frenchy a good time. I knew just exactly what he’d fancy.

‘Listen Frenchy,’ I said. ‘About an hour or so after that club across the street opens, I’ll take you over and introduce you to a sheila. She’ll destroy ya.’

Frenchy smiled up very big when he heard that. We had to keep our strength up, so we ordered counter teas. Steak, eggs, mushrooms, sausages and chips and ate up, washing it all down with beer after beer.

Frenchy was most impressed when he found out I had two guns and about two and a half grand in cash in my kick. I mentioned I might need him to watch my back for a few days, and told him there would be an extra grand in it for him. Frenchy bit a chunk of glass out of his pot of beer and chewed on it and spat a mouth full of broken glass and blood on to the floor.

‘Any dog tries it on with you, mate, and I’ll eat their dog eyes. I’ll rip their bloody lungs out. I’m with ya, mate.’ Then he bit the back of his hand until blood flowed to prove his point. It looked as if I had a partnership.

‘Cut it out, Frenchy,’ I said. ‘I know you’re with me.’ I put my arm around the little madman’s shoulder and gave him a hug. ‘It’s good to see ya, mate’ I said, throwing in what the shrinks call positive reinforcement. Ideal for training children, dogs and psychopath bodyguards.

‘Yeah,’ said Frenchy. ‘It’s good to see you too, mate.’

Men in jail found themselves lost and all alone in a world that had passed them by, and both Frenchy and I were genuinely happy to have found each other.

I explained the situation with Carolyn and also explained the Geoff Twane mix-up with Kerry Griffin. ‘So call me Geoff when ya meet her. Okay, Felix?’

Frenchy thought all this very funny. I told him I’d fix him up with Kerry. He couldn’t wait. We drank for another hour, then made our way over to the club. Once inside, Wazza Warren came up to us. He recognised Felix, and I could tell he was just a little concerned. He suspected if Frenchy got started, someone would need a chainsaw to make him pull up. Wazza shook our hands and told Felix there would be no charge for drinks that night. No fool, Wazza.

I couldn’t see Carolyn anywhere. Wazza told me she was in her dressing room. Frenchy was totally amazed at the sight of the dancing girls. He couldn’t believe it. Kerry was dancing in front of a group of men. She had several $20, $50 and $100 notes hooked into her knickers. The strobe lights almost, but not quite, hid the fact one dork had his dick out and with his one bar heater in one hand and a $100 note in the other was trying to persuade Kerry to swallow the evidence. But she either didn’t like the look of him or didn’t think $100 was enough, and treated the offering with total ignore. Or so I thought. The next thing I saw was a broken glass smash into the punter’s face, which started pissing blood as big Kerry sliced and diced his features with the rough end.

Three bouncers rushed in and gave the poor fallen fool an extra special kicking and dragged him out the door and turfed him into the street. Kerry bent down and picked up the $100 from the floor and walked to the bar. I followed along with Frenchy.

‘Hey Kerry,’ I said. She turned and smiled up big and gave me a huge hug as if slicing up people with broken glasses was the last thing on her mind. Friendly but dangerous, like a grizzly bear on heat.

I introduced her to Frenchy. No sooner had I mentioned his name than Kerry recognised him.

‘Oh yeah, I know you, Frenchy Furneaux. You bit a guy’s ear off at the Caballero nightclub in Collingwood about two years ago. I used to dance there.’

‘Yeah’ said Frenchy. A man of few words.

Kerry wasn’t worried. ‘Remember me, Frenchy, Kerry Griffin, Garry’s sister. You backed Garry up in a fight one night outside the Caballero?’

‘Yeah’ said Frenchy.

I bent over and whispered in her ear. ‘Frenchy just got out this morning, he’s on my side. Put a smile on his face will ya, princess?’

She winked at me and I said to Frenchy, ‘Listen mate, I’ve got to go and see a sheila. You go with Kerry.’

I patted the little bloke on the shoulder and Kerry on the arse and walked toward Carolyn’s dressing room. I made my way behind the red velvet curtain and down the darkened hallway, but before I got to knock on her door something stopped me dead in my tracks.

I could hear noises. I stepped back and walked down the hall on the other side of the door to Carolyn’s dressing room and stood stock still, quiet in the darkness. The door opened and Rocky the Wog came out. Carolyn walked behind him in her dancing clobber, stiletto high heels and gee string – the sort of knickers cut so high they could start a riot at 50 yards.

Rocky was talking. I was listening. ‘Try to set it for this Saturday night, baby’ I heard him say.

‘Get him there by Saturday night – to the Coliseum Hotel. You know it. You’ve been there with me a dozen times. Shit, I don’t see the bloody problem. Just do it. Okay?’

I could tell Carolyn had been crying. She just hung her head and nodded miserably.

‘Okay,’ she said in a little Orphan Annie voice.

Rocky was doing his tough guy routine. ‘Do you love me baby?’ he said. Been watching too many gangster movies, I thought.

Carolyn nodded her head obediently. Then Rocky bent down and kissed her. But instead of pulling back, maybe the way I was hoping she would, she melted into him like hot butter into a crumpet, and they kissed as if they had just invented it for a full minute, with her hands trying to undo his pants. In the end, it was him that did the pulling back.

‘No more, no more, you little nympho,’ he laughed.

Carolyn giggled and Rocky kissed her on the cheek and said, ‘See ya baby. Now, just play him along and get him there, okay?’

Carolyn nodded again. Rocky seemed satisfied that he’d got the message to her loud and clear about the set up. He turned and walked off down the hall, and Carolyn went back into her dressing room.

Me? I kept standing in the darkness and tried to understand what had just taken place. Big question that kept banging about the old brainbox: exactly who was she meant to be bringing to the Coliseum Hotel on Saturday night? No wonder I was becoming quite paranoid about this little bit of tragic magic with the wet-dream looks. But I knew – or thought I did – how to play the game just as well as they did. And now I had Frenchy Furneaux backing me up, which put a large ace into the hand I was holding.

I waited about 10 minutes, then walked into her dressing room. Carolyn was standing there with the tip of a needle pointed into a spoon. The needle was stuck into a small bit of filter torn from a cigarette. She was sucking up the clear liquid from the spoon through the filter and into the fit.

She didn’t seem concerned at me showing up, only irritated about being interrupted. ‘Shit’, she said. ‘Close the door.’

‘What’s that?’ I said. One of those stupid things you say. You didn’t have to be Einstein to work out what she was doing.

Carolyn didn’t answer, she just tapped the fit with her index finger and slid the point of the needle into her arm, neat and smooth as you like. She drew back a little blood into the glass, then injected the mixture of blood and clear liquid back into her arm.

‘Just a little smack, baby,’ she said, distantly, as if she was dreaming. ‘Takes the edge off things.’

She pulled the fit out, rubbed her arm with a towel and put some cream on the spot where the needle had been a second before. Should have been a nurse. Sister Morphine, like the song says.

‘There ya go,’ she said, looking at me properly for the first time since I’d got in the room. ‘No-one would ever know.’

She gave her face and nose a little scratch, then started to scratch her arse.

‘How long ya been using that shit?’ I asked.

‘Oh, not long’ she purred. ‘A quarter gram a night, just to mellow me out. Ohhh, it feels real good. Ya want a little taste, mate?’

I shook my head. ‘Nah, I’ll be right. I don’t use it.’

Carolyn said, ‘I’m not a junkie. I just like a little taste now and then.’ She paused and made dirty girl eyes at me, flicking her pointy little tongue over her lips. ‘It makes me horny as a rabbit,’ she giggled. ‘C’mon, big guy. Show me if that’s a gun in ya pocket or what. Give us a look.’

I stared at her. I felt a sort of sick inside. She was a junkie, and the golden rule was that no-one could ever trust a junkie or believe a word they said. I knew it as well as anybody, but for some reason I felt powerless to stop myself acting like some stupid squarehead being fed a line by a cunning whore with one hand on his fly and the other on his wallet. It was dead set suicide, but all I wanted to do was love this little girl and protect her and hold her in my arms.