Deal Me Out

Deal Me Out Read Online Free PDF

Book: Deal Me Out Read Online Free PDF
Author: Peter Corris
her head. ‘What?’
    ‘Mysteries,’ I said, ‘detectives. Look—Michael Lewin, Sjowall and Wahloo, Maigret, for Chrissake.’
    ‘So what?’
    ‘It’s bad enough if he decides to get some first hand experience of crime but this stuff makes it look as if he’s interested in
solving
the bloody crimes. Justice and all that.’
    I put the books down on the desk; their shiny newness was marred by rough turning down of the corners of a couple of pages at a time. Each book had three or four of these corner folds which suggested that Mountain had consumed the books in a couple of gulps. Twenty-five dollars’ worth of dangerous dreams.
    ‘Undercover?’ Erica Fong said.
    ‘He couldn’t be that dumb.’
    She nodded her head vigorously and withdrew her hands from the bib. Her fists were clenched tight. ‘He could be. Yes he could! God, I need a cigarette.’

4
    T HE idea that Mountain might have gone out playing Lone Ranger was the first bright thought I’d had since meeting Erica Fong, and it didn’t do either of us any good. I’d told her enough about the car racket, the false papers and disguises and so on, to give her the tip that it was an organised business. You don’t have to live very long in Sydney to become aware that organised criminality is something to stay away from. The Harbour is too conveniently close.
    Erica rooted through Mountain’s papers again and found a half packet of his Gitanes. While she was coughing her way into the first cigarette and I was wishing there was something else to drink in the place besides black instant and Suntory whisky, I had my second bright idea. Mountain must have got on to the strength of the car-stealing team through someone else, perhaps one of the people in my picture gallery. I described a couple of the faces to Erica from memory, but I didn’t do it very well.
    ‘I’d have to see them,’ she said, ‘and even then I don’t know. He knows a lot of people I don’t. He met a lot in pubs, people like you.’
    I took that as a sign that she’d had enough of my company for the night.
    ‘I’ve got the pictures in my office. Would you come in tomorrow morning and take a look?’
    ‘Sure.’
    We left it there. She let me out through the front door and I handed her the shotgun shells and one of my cards as I left.
    She rolled up to the office at around ten the next morning. She was wearing designer jeans and a scoop-neck black knitted top that had cost money. So had the bag she dropped carelessly on the floor as she sat in my client chair. Out came the cigarettes and her impassive look gave way to one of impatience.
    I hadn’t liked the job much at first and it wasn’t getting any better. I wasn’t in the mood for impatient young women. I took the envelope out of my desk slowly, tapped it on the scarred surface and looked owlishly over at her.
    ‘Do you mind telling me what you do for a living, Miss Fong?’
    She sighed and puffed irritably. Then she smiled. ‘At least you got the name right. On second meeting people usually call me Wong.’
    ‘Can’t understand it.’
    ‘I don’t do anything much. My Dad’s got an import business, Hong Kong and China. I go on the odd trip for him and do a bit of decorating in the shops.’
    I nodded and slid the photos out onto the desk. She butted her cigarette and pulled her chair up close.
    ‘I’d like to see Bill first, please.’
    I spread the pictures out with Mountain in the middle and moved away to give her a bit more of the dim light my dirty windows afford.
    I watched her face as she picked up the photo of Mountain. She studied it closely and nodded. She gave a tight smile, brushed back her fringe and tapped the picture with the fingers of her right hand. Her fingernails were cut short and unpainted and her touch was light. I felt a twinge of envy for Bill Mountain.
    ‘He looks good with the beard cut, doesn’t he?’
    ‘Yeah. Take a look at the others.’
    She put Mountain’s picture down and turned her
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