Thrill City by Leigh Redhead Page A

was thinking something along the lines of what happened at the pub.’
    ‘What happened at the pub?’ Sean’s voice.
    I snapped my head around, saw him approaching with a margarita and hoped to hell he hadn’t picked up the rest of the conversation.
    ‘Hey, buddy, glad you could make it,’ he said to Alex.
    I guessed he hadn’t heard, thank Christ.
    Sean handed me a drink, and Alex sprang up and the two hugged in a blokey way with lots of back-slapping.
    ‘We were just talking about Alex’s prick of a cousin hiring me for his buck’s.’ I shook my head and did an amazed laugh which sounded pretty fake even to me. So much for my acting skills.
    ‘Hey, mate, make one of those for me?’ Alex asked Sean.
    ‘Sure.’
    ‘Good to see you, Simone.’ He looked at my legs again. Jesus. He was Jekyll and Hyde after the head injury, and it was impossible to predict what he’d say next.
    Alex and Sean repaired to the bar and I did the only thing that seemed sensible under the circumstances—started drinking heavily. Andi and a couple of the strippers were downing shots of cocksucking cowboys, so I joined in as the sun sank low over the train line and melted into a dazzling pink glob.
    ‘How’s your crime story going?’ I asked Andi as a viscous mix of Baileys and butterscotch schnapps slid down my throat. It was fairly obvious how the drink got its name.
    ‘Which one?’
    ‘The new one you’re writing with Curtis. Dead financial dude.’
    ‘Fucking crap,’ she said. ‘Case has just died. Elliot went missing eighteen months ago. He was rumoured to have connections to bikie gangs and speed or ice or whatever they’re calling it these days. But the cops haven’t found any evidence to link him to them. Probably won’t. They reckon he was hit over some sort of drug money—there was a contract out on him.’
    The stripper to the left of us, a painfully thin blonde who’d been talking a hundred miles a minute to another girl, whipped her head around.
    ‘You talking about that rich cunt, found his body up near Daylesford?’
    ‘Yeah.’ Andi downed another shot, keeping her eyes on the girl.
    ‘Contract didn’t go out on him till after he disappeared.’
    ‘How do you know?’ I asked. Drunk and nosy.
    ‘My ex was with the Red Devils. That Lachlan bloke was always hanging around the clubhouse, doing go-ey, taking in the shows.’
    I guessed this was Tiara, who Chloe had been arguing with on the phone weeks before. Judging by her glittering eyes, sharp features and inability to shut up, it didn’t look like she’d given the amphetamines away.
    ‘I heard he pissed off with a lot of cash and drugs,’ Andi said.
    ‘I heard that too. But the papers said he’s been dead about a year and a half, right? He was killed by someone else. Bikies get blamed for everything, but they didn’t do it.’
    ‘The date of death’s only an estimate. It could have been a contract job.’
    ‘’Cept the contract was never paid out.’
    Andi suddenly looked very alert and sober. No mean feat, considering the joints and the booze. ‘You willing to go on record and say that?’ she asked Tiara.
    ‘No fucking way. You think I’ve got a death wish? I’m not sayin’ nothing.’ Tiara slammed back another cocksucking cowboy, gave Andi a slit-eyed look and turned back to ear-bash her friend.
    Andi got up, a little unsteady on her prosthetic leg, and limped into Chloe’s office. I saw her through the French doors, sitting at the desk, grabbing a pen and scribbling on a piece of paper. I felt a hand on my shoulder, turned my head. It was Sean. Alone.
    ‘Where’s Alex?’ I asked.
    ‘Gone home.’
    ‘Nice of him to say goodbye.’ I felt offended.
    ‘He was pretty smashed.’
    ‘So am I.’ The pink splotch had finally sunk and it was getting dark on the deck. ‘If we tell Chloe we’re going home she’ll never let us out the door. Wanna do a runner?’
    ‘What’ll we do at home?’
    ‘I’m sure we can think of