I swung around to look. ‘I don’t remember.’
He opened a drawer, took out a remote controller and began changing the images on the screens. A picture of Vi, Kent in hand and with an empty glass at her elbow came into focus. Her pile of chips had grown significantly. ‘That’s her,’ I said.
‘Interesting-looking dame. She looks a bit like…’
‘Sigourney Weaver.’
‘Yeah, right. And she’s doing OK. What was her stake?’
‘Not much.’
‘She’s doing swell, Cliff. Must be a good player. You’ve gotta be bright to play good blackjack. What’s she do when she’s not gambling?’
I didn’t feel like answering that, still not sure how far to trust Cartwright. For all I knew, Baldy and his pal were parking cars or sitting in some security room watching the same pictures.
Oscar switched off the screens and closed the panel. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Cliff,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t real sorry when there was no follow-up in the press on Scott’s death. No arrest, no more publicity. I’ve got something to protect here.’
‘I know. You’re on the board, you’ve got a stake as you might say.’
‘So you’ve been digging? That’s fine but it worries me a little to have you so suspicious. Don’t get me wrong-if there’s anything wrong going on around here, I want to know about it and get it stopped. Clean is the go. We’ve got to look, sound and smell clean to get the permanent licence.’
‘So what’re you saying?’
‘I want to help. How’s this? We’ve got a guy coming from the States to take over Scott’s job. But he can’t be here for a month. How’s for you to fill in for that time? You’d have the run of the place. If there’s something to find you’d have every chance to bloody-well find it.’
14
‘I’ve won close to five hundred bucks!’
‘Great, time to pack it in.’
‘Hey, I’m on a roll.’
Vi’s eyes were bright with victory and it would have been churlish to stop her. I kissed her cheek, caught a waiter and ordered her a bourbon with water and another beer for myself. When the drinks arrived I drifted off to lean back against the bar and survey the room. It had filled still further in the time I’d been away and the clientele had changed. The drunks and the tycoon had gone, but the Chinese pair were still playing with devoted intensity. Thin and nervous had changed from craps to roulette but it didn’t look as if his luck had improved. Every table had its share of hard-core gamblers, flirters and tourists, the mix that makes the business so profitable.
My arm had stiffened and I exercised it, flexing it and clenching and unclenching my fist. This attracted the attention of a character who was apparently tossing up whether to cash in his chips or take another flutter. In fact he was watching Vita and me. I memorised his face-square jaw, slicked back fair hair, prominent ears. After all, he was going to be one of my underlings and it would be up to me to teach him to be less obvious about watching people.
It was after midnight and I was tired. I sipped some of the beer I didn’t want and yawned. Vi came towards me, jiggling chips and swaying slightly on her high heels.
‘Kept your stake and won a hundred,’ she said.
‘Have fun?’
‘Sure did. You look ready for bed.’ She tucked her purse under her arm and lifted her free hand to touch my cheek. Then she kissed the spot she’d touched. ‘I’ll give you a Montana massage you’ll never forget.’
I cashed in the chips and Vi recovered her pistol from the security desk. The driver brought up the Pulsar and I tipped him and slid into the passenger seat. ‘Watch your scarf,’ I said to Vi. ‘Remember what happened to Isadora Duncan.’
She laughed, flicked the scarf end at me and settled into her seat. We were in a line of cars, three back from the front. Suddenly, Vi stiffened and gripped the steering wheel. “That’s him!’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘The guy I saw with Scott. That’s him!’ She was pointing ahead at the silver-grey Mercedes at the head of the line. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a man getting in the back. The Merc accelerated away sharply and we were left with no room to get around the Mazda in front of us. Vi slammed the lever into drive but the Mazda was taking on its passengers in leisurely fashion. She honked and the driver gave her the finger.
‘Fuck you,’ she said. ‘Get moving!’
I was squinting against the artificial light, trying to get a look at the Merc’s licence plate as it cruised away. No chance. Vi fumed.
‘Take it easy,’ I said. ‘We’re a good chance to pick it up when we get out of the tunnel.’
‘If this fucker ever moves!’
The Mazda pulled out slowly and Vi went around it in a screech of rubber on tarmac. She shot up the ramp to street level and went the only way she could, into the series of roads that lead from Darling Harbour to all points of the compass. The traffic was light at that hour and I saw the Mercedes take an exit a hundred metres ahead. Vi saw it too and accelerated. She wasn’t familiar enough with the car to do it smoothly and the Pulsar rocked and swayed as it gathered speed.
The worst thing you can do to a driver is sound as if you can do what they’re doing better, but I had to tell her. ‘Ease back, Vi, we don’t want him to see us come rocketing up behind him. We want to know where he’s going.’
She was a greenhorn, slamming her foot on the brake so that the car slewed and skidded. She fought out of the skid nicely, and stalled. By the time we got going again the Mercedes was out of sight on a road that branched three ways ahead.
‘Shit,’ Vi groaned. ‘I’m sorry. I lost him.’
‘Take the left!’
‘Why, for chrissakes?’
‘Just take it.’
She turned off down the left track and we followed the road for a kilometre or so at speed. There was no sign of the Mercedes and Vi was almost weeping. ‘Damn, damn, damn-why did I have to fuck up like that?’
‘It’s not the end of the world. You spotted him and we got something. Let’s get back on the track to your place.’
She made the turns, driving carefully, the adrenalin rush diminishing. ‘Why’d you tell me to turn left back there?’
‘Which way would you have gone?’
‘I don’t know. I’d probably have stopped.’
I reached over and stroked her hair, feeling the wiry frizz turn soft in my fingers. ‘That’s why. We had a one in three chance-you have to gamble.’
She nodded. ‘I get it. It’s not quite like in the movies, huh? Did you see that dumb flick when Debra Winger… like, she can’t drive at all, right? She gets in this car and drives through the city. Really dumb.’
‘Legal Eagle?’ I said. ‘Yeah, Glen got it out on video and…’
She shot me a look. ‘Aha. Glen, eh? What would that be-Glenda?’
‘Glenys.’
‘Glenys!’ I don’t fucking believe it! No one’s called Glenys.’
‘Vi… ‘
We had just made the turn into Broadway where the traffic was thickish and mixed-late night drunks, long- haul drivers and sober suburbanites, fresh from something frothy at the Entertainment Centre. She took both hands off the wheel and patted the air in front of her. ‘It’s OK. It’s OK! I’m screwing this guy called Ralph, off and on. Funny, I call him like Rafe, you know? He likes that… ‘
