Les Norton and the Case of the Talking Pie Crust Read Online Free PDF

Funny as circus. Take piss from everything. Make everybody laugh fit to bust.’
    ‘And how did you get onto him?’ asked Les.
    ‘Through students at pizza shop.’
    ‘Students?’
    ‘Yes. Students live in Bellevue Hill. Buy pizzas from me,’ said Bodene. ‘Two are French. Same as Emile Mercier’s family. They study him at university and show me copies of cartoons he does. Plus comic book called Super Dooper Man. And The Case of the Singing Pie Crust .’
    ‘ The Singing Pie Crust ?’ said Les.
    ‘Exactly,’ Bodene nodded over his coffee. ‘So I start thinking. Lot of movies today are digitilised cartoons. Like Shrek. Happy Feet. Ice Age. You know the ones, Les.’
    ‘Sure. Warren brings home the videos,’ said Les. ‘They’re good.’
    ‘So I think again. Why not make Australian movie about dysfunctional Australian family? Make it half Emile Mercier cartoons and half actors. And call it The Case of the Talking Pie Crust. Australians like a good laugh at themselves. They’d lap it up.’
    ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Les. ‘Sort of Who Killed Roger Rabbit? meets The Castle’.
    ‘Right on,’ nodded Bodene.
    ‘Have you got the money to make the movie?’ asked Les.
    Bodene answered Norton’s question with a dismissive wave. ‘Money is no problem,’ he said. ‘Only problem is, pricks knock off my script. Plus floppy disc and three little books of Emile Mercier cartoons. Which also cost me plenty and are impossible to replace.’
    ‘And this is what you’re willing to pay fifty thousand to get back?’ said Les.
    ‘Fifty. Maybe more,’ said Bodene.
    Les stared at Bodene for a moment. ‘Okay. I’ll give it a lash.’
    ‘Give it a lash,’ smiled Bodene. ‘You sound like person in Emile Mercier cartoon.’
    ‘Whatever,’ Les smiled back. ‘All right. So when did all this stuff go missing again?’
    ‘Thursday. Thursday afternoon.’
    ‘And it was in a bag, in the back of your car?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘What sort of bag?’ Les gestured. ‘A post bag? An overnight bag?’
    Bodene exchanged glances with Barbara and looked uneasy. ‘Actually. It was an old woman’s handbag,’ he admitted.
    ‘An old woman’s handbag?’ said Les.
    ‘A green one,’ nodded Barbara. ‘With a black eagle on the side.’
    Bodene was about to speak, when his expression changed and he gave Lasjoz a nod. The big man rose out of his chair and stepped across to one of the gleaming Harley Davidsons. He put a helmet on that was hanging off the handlebars, then got on board and started the engine, revving it loud enough to shake the life out of the other punters seated outside Azulejos and almost blow the froth off Norton’s cappuccino. Les watched as Lasjoz jumped the Harley over the gutter, then circled the roundabout several times, revving the engine every time he changed gears. The noise was horrendous and set the alarms off in several cars parked nearby. Finally, he drove the big American bike back to its original position, parked it and switched off the engine. After the racket from the Harley, any noise the council workers were making sounded like children playing. Les watched Lasjoz squeeze himself back into his chair then turned to Bodene.
    ‘What was all that about?’ asked Les.
    ‘Battery in motorbike is flat,’ replied Bodene. ‘Have to give it charge now and again.’
    ‘Fair enough.’ Les had a sip of coffee thenlooked up at Bodene. ‘Now what’s all this about a bag with an eagle on the side?’
    ‘Is nothing really,’ said Bodene. ‘Thursday morning I was looking at house in Rose Bay. Deceased estate. Some of the old woman’s things were still in house and in closet, amongst all the shit, I notice green bag with black eagle on side, looks like eagle on Albanian flag. So I say, hey yes. I have this. I give to Barbara. Estate agent doesn’t notice. So I throw it in back of car where I have film script. And…I don’t know, maybe for good luck, I put film script and everything in