You Wouldn't Be Dead for Quids (20 page)

Price chuckled into the phone. ‘That's what I rang to talk to you about.'

Les felt a little apprehensive at the tone of Price's voice. ‘Something wrong is there? Those stones no good? Murray make a bit of a blue did he?'

‘No good?' Price exploded into the phone. ‘You're kidding. They're worth a bloody fortune.'

Les paused for a moment before he answered. ‘Fair dinkum?'

‘Fair dinkum. Look, I know a fair bit about opals and as soon as he showed them to me I bloody near fainted. I've got Brenton Richards here from Consolidated Diamonds, he's had one look at them and just about shit himself. He reckons they're two of the best matching fire opals he's seen in over 20 years.'

‘They're that good, eh?'

‘That good? They're incredible. They're absolutely unique.'

Les didn't answer for a few seconds. ‘So — what happened? Your mate from Consolidated Diamonds bought them did he?'

‘Yeah. Pig's arse he did.' Price snorted into the phone. ‘I bought the bloody things myself. I made your brother one offer and he took it.'

‘How much, Price? If you don't mind me asking.'

‘One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.'

Les nearly choked on his mouthful of beer, coughing and spraying it all over the lounge room. ‘How much did you say?' he spluttered into the phone.

‘A hundred and fifty grand. But don't worry, I still got them cheap, which I've explained to your brother. I've told him that with my contacts I could probably sell them in New York in six months for over a quarter of a million so he knows the whole story. Anyway he's more than happy, he was only expecting about ten grand or so.'

‘I'll bet he is,' replied Les, still shocked.

‘But there's no way I'll be selling them, Les. Bugger the Yanks and the Arabs. They go straight into my collection. And guess what I'm going to call them?'

‘What?'

‘The Kelly Twins. I'm going to name them after the club. How's that sound?'

‘Sounds good,' replied Les. ‘It's certainly original.'

Price roared laughing into the phone. ‘Ironic isn't it, to think that what will be two of Australia's most famous opals are named after an illegal gambling casino. In Kings Cross, too, of all places.' Price burst out laughing again.

‘I reckon it's beautiful,' said Les.

‘So do I. Anyway listen, your brother's out by the pool having a cuppa, and talking to my missus, but he reckons he wants to drive straight back to Queensland tonight. Do you reckon he'll be all right with all that money? I paid him cash.'

Les smiled into the phone. ‘I'd hate to see anyone try and get if off him,' he said dryly.

‘Yes. Well being a blood relation of yours I can understand that. One could say you Nortons are extremely careful when it comes to a dollar bill.'

‘One certainly could, Price,' replied Les evenly.

‘Okay. Well that's all settled. I'll have Eddie drop him off, he should be back at your place in less than half an hour.'

‘All right Price. Well, thanks for doing that for Murray, I appreciate it. And that's a bloody lot of money too.'

‘Turn it up, Les. It's only money. It's not an arm or a leg is it? If anything it's another one I owe you. I couldn't be happier.'

‘Oh well. Whatever.'

‘Anyway, I'll get going and I'll see you up the club on Wednesday night. We'll have a yarn about it then. All right?'

‘Righto. See you Wednesday. Goodbye Price.'

‘Goodbye Les. Thanks again.'

Les sat there for a few moments slowly shaking his head and staring vacantly at the phone. Finally he got up, took another beer from the fridge and still slightly mesmerised stood at the back door watching through the lightly falling rain as Grungle chomped away contentedly on King's front leg.

‘Well, what do you think of that Grungle, you ugly little bludger?' he said half laughing to the dog. ‘Your loving master, my so called hillbilly brother, has just picked himself up a cool hundred and fifty thousand bucks.'

Grungle looked up at the sound of Les's voice, squinted his little piggy eyes, wagged his tail enthusiastically a few times, then went back to crunching up the last of the leg.

‘You're right, Grungle,' continued Les nodding his head slowly. ‘It is something isn't it? It's a bone all right.'

Les was still shaking his head a half an hour later when Murray burst through the door like Elliot Ness and came clomping down the hallway at a hundred miles an hour. He stood at the loungeroom door staring down at Les; there was a wild grin spread across his face and his eyes were bulging out like two tennis balls. Suddenly he tore off his hat, threw back his head and let out a piercing yell you could have heard down in Tasmania. He screamed again then ran at Les and started belting him over the head with his hat.

‘Well what do you think of that, old fellah?' he said excitedly. ‘Did your boss tell you what happened over the phone?'

Les stood up, grinned broadly at his brother and shook his hand.

‘Good on you Muzz,' he said warmly and sincerely. ‘I reckon that's great. You and the family are set for life now.'

Murray pulled a white canvas bag stuffed with money out from under his shirt and handed it to Les. ‘Look at that,' he said, ‘a hundred a fifty grand. I can't bloody believe it.'

‘I told you Price would look after you,' said Les, dropping the bag of money on to the coffee table.

‘Look after me? Christ, that is putting it mildly,' said Murray, picking up the bag of money and dropping it down again. ‘I still can't friggin' believe it.' He looked at Les and shook his head. ‘Christ I gotta get a beer.'

Les waited till Murray came back from the kitchen before he spoke. ‘I got another little surprise for you too. I took Grungle for a little walk while you were away.'

‘What do you mean you took him for a walk?' said Murray, looking at his brother quizzingly while he took several healthy pulls on his can of Fourex. ‘He got a ton of walking down in that park this morning.'

‘Oh I didn't take him far,' said Les casually. ‘Just into my Greek mate next door's backyard. While he was out.'

Murray laughed and drained his can of beer. ‘You didn't put him in with that big savage german shepherd did you? Not the killer. What happened?'

‘Oh, what do you think happened? It was the most horrible thing I ever seen in my life.'

Les went on to tell Murray about the slaughter next door, not leaving out any details. By the time he'd finished Murray was doubled up on the lounge with laughter, tears were pouring down his cheeks.

‘So what did you do with the killer's remains?' said Murray trying to sit up and spilling a fresh can of beer Les had brought him all over himself in the process. ‘I'll bet there wasn't too much left.' He roared laughing and thumped his leg. ‘Knowin' old Grungle, you'd be lucky to find a drop of blood.'

‘They're in garbage bags in the back of your panel-van. You can dump them somewhere on the way home.'

‘Heh, heh, heh, my dog's a killer.' Murray threw back his head and let go a great bellow of laughter again. ‘I near pissed meself when your wog mate said that. That german shepherd was about as much use as tits on a bull. Jesus, Grungle took on a ten foot crocodile six months ago and flogged it.'

‘He what?' said Les, staring open mouthed at his brother.

‘He stuck it up a croc. There was a flash flood. The Narran overflowed and I was down the caravan park with Sergeant Austin pullin' out a few vans with his Land-Rover. We're down by the river bank when all of a sudden this bloody great crocodile slithers out of the river and heads for one of the kids. Grungle's jumped straight on to it, ripped off its front leg and started tearing its guts out.'

‘Christ,' said Les.

‘The poor bloody crocodile didn't know what hit it. It's jumped back in the water and went for its life. Grungle's dived in and started swimming after it. He couldn't catch it in the water though, Grungle's not a very good swimmer. They found the croc about ten miles downstream a couple of days later. Dead as a mackerel. So you can imagine how much chance that big dopey lookin' thing next door had. Buckley's. I'd have given half that money there to have seen the stink, though.'

‘Yeah. It was something else, I can tell you,' said Les.

They both sat on the lounge laughing for a while then as the laughing subsided there was an uneasy period of silence; each knew what the other was thinking. Finally Murray spoke.

‘Well Les,' he said awkwardly, ‘I hate to sort of, get up and just be runnin' straight out the door, but, I reckon I might get going.'

‘That's all right Muzz,' replied Les easily. ‘I understand. I don't blame you wanting to get back home to the family. Cities have never been your go.'

‘You're not wrong.' Murray looked at Les for a moment and slowly stroked his chin, a smile flickered round his eyes. ‘But before I go, there's a bit of squarin' up to be done I think.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Board and lodgings for me and Grungle. Me 'n the dog pay our way.'

‘Oh don't give me the shits. I don't want any friggin' money.'

‘You'll either take it or have it shoved up your big red arse.'

Les sat back on the lounge, looked up and shook his head as Murray reached towards the canvas bag sitting on the coffee table and started rifling through the wads of notes. He paused for a moment, looked at Les with one eye closed, then flicked through some more money finally pulling out a wad of $50 bills which he tossed into Les's lap.

‘There you are,' he said. ‘There's twenty-five grand there. I reckon that's fair enough for two days board.'

Les looked at the pile of money sitting in his lap. ‘Come on, turn it up Murray,' he said. ‘I can't take this.'

‘Pig's arse. If it hadn't been for you and your boss I'd of got ripped off by that reffo in Bellevue Hill, so I owe you that at least. Besides, don't you come your shitpot benevolence act with me. You've been as tight as a tom-cat's quoit since the day you were born. It's a wonder you don't want half.'

‘Yeah, I suppose you're right.' Les leaned back on the lounge and grinned. ‘Why don't you toss in another five, make it an even thirty?'

‘Fair enough.' Murray counted out another five thousand and tossed it to his brother. ‘Now I might get going,' he said, ‘while I still got a hundred and twenty left.'

‘You're sure you don't want to leave it with me and I'll send it up to you. Be safer that way.'

‘Go and get rooted.'

‘I was only trying to help.'

While Murray collected his few clothes and tossed them loosely into his overnight bag Les went to his bedroom, slipped a thousand dollars out of the stack of money Murray had given him, put it in his pocket, then wrapped the rest in an old T-shirt and stuffed it down the bottom of his dirty clothes basket. Murray had finished packing when he returned to the other bedroom.

‘I'll get you to drop me off at the Bondi on your way. I might have a couple of beers and get one of those VCRs off that wharfie.'

‘Righto. Don't forget to say hello to those Poms for me if you see them.'

‘Yeah. I'll tell them Tex sends his love. I'd better go and get Grungle.'

Les went to the back door and called the dog, he was relieved to notice Stavros hadn't arrived home yet. Murray was waiting in the hall and the three of them walked slowly and silently to the front door.

When they got outside the rain had stopped and the sun was just starting to go down behind Bellevue Hill, tinting the sadness of the grey, white clouds spread out over the Tasman with delicate shades of orange, yellow and red. It was quiet and still after the rain and the hissing of the passing cars tyres on the still
wet road seemed gentle and soothing as somewhere in the distance the raucous cries and shrill whistle of a passing paper boy echoed about, beckoning people to come out for their evening Sun or Mirror.

‘Well, looks like it's stopped raining anyway,' said Murray, tilting his leathery face to the sky as he opened the back of the panel-van to let Grungle in, tossing his bag in after him. He noticed the green garbage bag with its grisly contents sitting towards the front.

‘Is that the killer's remains, is it?' he said with an evil grin on his face.

‘That's them. Just give them a decent Christian burial somewhere on the way, will you?'

Murray just looked at Les and laughed as he closed the back of the panel-van. They climbed in the front, Les placed a dozen tinnies, in a carton, on the floor for Murray to drink on the way and his brother started the motor, letting it warm up for a while before he took off.

‘You just going to drive straight home are you, Muzz?' said Les, sitting there listening as the motor idled gently.

‘Yep. Might stop for a bit of petrol, that's about all.'

‘What about tucker? I suppose you'll find a few truck-stops along the way. There's a good one just out of Glen Innes.'

‘No, I won't even stop for food. We'll eat that dog if we get hungry.'

Les looked at his brother curiously for a few seconds. ‘What do you mean you'll eat the dog?'

‘Me 'n Grungle. If we get hungry we'll eat that german shepherd. No worse than eatin' dingo.'

‘Are you fair dinkum?'

‘Course I'm fair dinkum.' Murray looked at Les sceptically. ‘Jesus, you've been in the city too long, son. What do you think I eat when I'm out trapping dingo and I run out of tucker? And what do you think I do when it's raining and I can't light a fire. Look, I'll show you.'

He reached into the back, opened the plastic bags, put his hands in and tore off a large piece of still-warm flesh. He took a huge bite from the purplish, red piece of meat, still covered in fur, and tossed the rest to Grungle, who gave it a quick chew then swallowed the lot in one gulp and wagged his tail for more.