Read Online Blood and Circuses by Kerry Greenwood - Free Book Online Page B

I’ll decide about the price.’
    ‘You’re only a tiddler,’ said Reffo scornfully. ‘Where’s your old man?’
    ‘He authorised me to deal,’ said Tommy easily. ‘You talk to me or nobody.’
    Reffo thought about this, never an easy process for someone who had been hit on the head as often as he had. The nostrils curled, the forehead corrugated. Tommy watched, fascinated. Finally Reffo seemed to come to a decision.
    ‘A quid.’
    ‘If it’s worth it.’
    ‘Tell the old man that the ’Roy Boys is mixed up with something big. Real big.’
    Tommy Harris was amused. He stubbed out the cigarette which had been chugging away in the ashtray and lit another, trying not to breathe in the smoke. He offered one to Reffo, who took two and tucked one away behind his ear.
    ‘Them?’ scoffed Tommy. ‘No one would trust ’em with anything big. What sort of big?’
    ‘You know that Seddon what walked out of Pentridge?’
    ‘He was dead, Reffo. You don’t walk any more when you’re dead.’
    Reffo gave the constable a scornful look. He was about to speak, caught himself, and continued, ‘That’s all you know. And then there was Maguire the robber.’
    ‘Yes?’ Tommy was interested for the first time. Maguire had managed to cut himself out of a police van taking him to court. No one had seen him leave the van but when it arrived the robber had not been there. The constable left in the van with him had been found in a drugged sleep, with chloroform burns to his face and no memory of how the prisoner had got out of his handcuffs. The present whereabouts of Damien Maguire were unknown. Every cop in the state was looking for him.
    ‘Go on, Reffo, this might be worth a quid. Do you know where Maguire is now?’
    ‘Nah. But the ’Roy Boys do. Ask ’em. And there’s the man that attacked them kids. You want him for three little girls, don’t you?’
    ‘Smythe? You know where he is?’ said Tommy eagerly. Late one night, Ronald Smythe had slipped from his house, although it was being watched by four constables. He had never been seen since. The police wanted to renew their acquaintance with Mr Smythe very badly.
    ‘’Roy Boys know. What’s that?’
    An argument had started in the front bar. It had increased in volume, and now became inescapable. Mr Thomas the publican was discussing the reason why he should give another bottle of cheap ruby port to Lizard Elsie, the sailor’s friend.
    Lizard Elsie stood five feet high in her damaged canvas shoes. She was dressed in an assortment of carefully chosen rags, topped with what had once been a rather expensive ball-gown, to judge by the remains of the sequins, and a tatty feather boa wound three times around her neck. The ruby-port content of Lizard Elsie’s blood was low. This always made her cross.
    ‘No, Elsie, I already gave you a free bottle yesterday. Don’t drink it all at once, I said. I’m not giving you any more of my port.’
    Lizard Elsie pushed aside her tangled black hair with both dirty hands. She levelled black eyes at the publican and screamed in a shrill voice like a seagull, ‘You mean bastard! You mongrel cur! Wouldn’t give a poor girl the drippin’s from your fucking nose! Bloody well gimme me port or you’ll be fucking sorry!’
    Tommy Harris reflected that they didn’t call her Lizard Elsie for nothing. Her tongue was definitely blue. The respectable patrons of the Provincial were drawing away and remembering appointments and lunch and requirements to go back to work or the missus. Mr Thomas saw this and lost his temper.
    ‘You get out of my nice clean establishment, you and your foul tongue! Get out before I call the cops!’
    Lizard Elsie did not reply in words. She seized a stool and flung it at the bar.
    Bottles shattered. Mary the barmaid ducked and came up splashed in liqueur and picking glass out of her hair. Small specks of blood freckled her magnificent bosom. Three drinkers leapt to help her remove the splinters.
    Tommy Harris