Les Norton and the Case of the Talking Pie Crust by Robert G. Barrett

minutes had passed, the phone rang.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Yeah. I’ve sorted everything out. You got a Biro?’
    ‘Right here, mate. Fire away.’
    Eddie gave Les his locksmith mate’s details and the details of his other mate who ran the resort.
    ‘You’ll like Ocean Star Apartments,’ said Eddie. ‘They’re right across from the ocean. Glen’s a good bloke, too. And when you get your key cut, slip Kenny a few extra bucks. His granddaughter needs an eye operation.’
    ‘Good as gold.’
    ‘All right. Have a good time up there, Les. I’ll see you when you get back.’
    ‘Okay. Thanks, Eddie.’
    Les hung up and took his empty cup out to the kitchen. Well, that’s all right, he smiled. A holiday on the house. Les winked up at the sky. You have your moments, don’t you, boss. Les checked the addresses and the two names again. Kenny Taylorand Glen Kaplan. I’ll leave the locksmith alone. But I’ll ring the other bloke just to break the ice. Les picked up the phone and dialled again.
    ‘Hello. Ocean Star. Glen Kaplan speaking.’
    ‘Oh Glen. My name’s Les Norton. Did Eddie ring you about me?’
    ‘He sure did.’ The voice was warm and friendly. ‘What time are you coming up?’
    ‘Depending on the traffic, tomorrow morning before lunch. Is that okay?’
    ‘No problem at all. You know how to get here?’
    ‘Yeah. I’ve stayed in Terrigal before.’
    ‘Well, we’re on the main drag as you pass the Skillion. Just pull into the drive and sound the buzzer.’
    ‘All right. I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks, Glen.’
    ‘No worries, Les.’
    Glen hung up and Les stared at the phone. There it is. Done deal. And there’ll be nothing doing up there early in the week. So I’ll just eat, sleep and train. Maybe have the odd cool one. And forget about Sydney. I wonder what the weather’ll be like? Les peered out the window. Mmmh. Looks like it’s getting ready to rain down here. Les was contemplating what to take with him, when his mobile phone rang. ‘Hello?’
    ‘Yes. It’s me again. Bodene Menjou’s friend.’
    ‘Deep Throat,’ said Les.
    ‘Is that what you wish to call me?’ said the voice.
    ‘Sure. Why not,’ answered Les.
    ‘Very well,’ replied the voice. ‘Is good. So how did you go down at the Bondi Markets?’
    ‘Well, I didn’t find any green bag. And Rose the tarot reader knew nothing. But she gave me a good tarot read.’
    ‘You had your tarot read?’
    ‘I sure did,’ said Les.
    ‘Excellent.’ Suddenly the voice sneezed violently.
    ‘Gesundheit,’ said Les.
    ‘Yeah,’ sniffed the voice. ‘Something like that. Now, I have somewhere else for you to look.’
    ‘Somewhere else?’ said Les.
    ‘Yes. And there could be more. But I want you to find the bag. It is important you do.’
    ‘And all you want is satisfaction,’ said Les.
    ‘That is right. Now have you a Biro ready?’
    ‘I have.’
    ‘Excellent. The street runs off Bondi Road and the house is on the right near the end. I believe the bag was left out the front.’
    ‘Out the front?’
    ‘Yes. Look for it there. Here is the address.’
    ‘Righto.’ Les wrote down the address and read it back.
    ‘That is good,’ said the voice. ‘Now I must go. I will ring you back.’
    Les placed his mobile on the table and looked at the address. I think I know where that is, he mused. Not far from the Royal Hotel. He looked out the window again. It looks like it’s going to rain later, so I may as well go round now. No need to get changed. But this time I’ll wear those gloves I keep in the car for changing flats. Christ! If I’d have known all that shit was going to go down, I would have worn them last night. Be nice if I’d cut myself. There was blood everywhere. Les put the address in the back pocket of his jeans, locked the house then climbed behind the wheel of his car and drove off.
    The street wasn’t hard to find. It was a short, narrow, one-way thoroughfare running from Bondi Road towards Birrell Street.