Rubdown by Leigh Redhead Read Free Book Online Page B

one and discovered Tamara was a Tampax girl who smoked Winfields, ate microwave lasagna and was hopelessly addicted to Coca-Cola. The second yielded more interesting booty. As well as a whole bunch of trashy magazines, broken pencils, takeaway pamphlets and a half empty blister pack of Panadol, I found a couple of glossy brochures. One advertised apartments for sale on the Gold Coast and the other appeared to be a travel brochure for Melbourne, written in Chinese. An English language sticker on the back told me it had come from Fong Chan Travel in Springvale. I transferred the brochures to a plastic Coles bag and thanked Morgana for her help.
    ‘Don’t thank me. Thank Tammy,’ she said.
    I got to the Good Times Club just as Neville pulled up outside in a bright red Subaru Forrester. He unlocked the door, went inside and a couple of minutes later Marla the receptionist showed up, then the girls. I saw Lulu, Rachel of the investment obsession and four others I didn’t recognise. I pulled my mobile from my bag and rang the club.
    ‘Good Times Club. Your pleasure is our business,’ Marla singsonged.
    ‘Oh hi, can I talk to Lulu? I’m a friend.’
    The phone clattered and a minute later Lulu was on the line, voice deep and breathy. ‘Hello?’
    I talked in a rush in case she got any ideas about hanging up.
    ‘My name’s Simone Kirsch and I’m an inquiry agent. I’ve been hired to look into your friend Tammy’s death. I was wondering if you could talk to me confidentially.’
    Silence on the other end.
    I said, ‘Hannah can vouch for me.’
    ‘Okay, when?’
    ‘When would suit you?’
    ‘I’m doing a double today but I’ve got tomorrow off. How about five pm at Mario’s on Brunswick Street.’
    ‘Sure. What was all that about between you and Billy Chevelle at Tammy’s funeral?’
    ‘I’d rather not talk about it over the phone.’
    ‘Fair enough. And please, don’t mention this to Neville or anyone at Good Times.’
    ‘Of course not.’
    I pressed end. Damn I was good. People were cooperating and things were going swimmingly. If Tony had known what I was up to he’d surely be proud. Right after he’d finished being angry.
    The front door opened and Neville trotted out, a beige sportscoat over his red polo shirt. I turned the key and gave thanks as The Beast started easily. She’d been running really well. I hung four cars back as I followed him along Queens Road and onto Dandenong. Where was he off to this fine Saturday morning? My question was answered a couple of k’s past Chadstone shopping centre when he pulled into the car park of a cheap-looking brick motel. I parked on the street in a no standing zone, twisted on the bench seat and trained my camera on him, zooming in. He stood in the car park and made a call on his mobile. A few moments later the door to room number five opened and a young Asian woman with waist length hair stood with one hand up on the frame, wearing a black lace slip, stockings, suspenders and high heels. Hubba hubba. I started clicking off shots, feeling like one of those sleazy old fashioned PIs who skulked around in the days before no-fault divorce. Neville walked to the door and scooped her up in his arms, kissing her passionately. It would have been quite romantic and noir if he hadn’t been so incredibly vile.
    I hung in the car wondering how long all this would take. It was hot in the sun and pressure was building in my bladder. Lucky for me Neville must have been a one minute wonder ’cause they were out in five, the woman dressed in jeans, heels and a sparkly top with shoulder pads. They left Neville’s Subaru outside the room and walked up the street. I started the Futura but kept her idling while I saw where they went. Not far. Half a block up they walked into a massive, new-looking hotel with a Tabaret sign on the roof. I pulled out from my spot, zipped into the pub parking lot and stopped out of sight behind a yellow panel van, eyeing the hotel entrance