way she was lying, her clothing failed to adhere to her body’s shape.
Reymond could see the outline of her bra strap raising the material of her top,
otherwise pulled taught by the way that she was lying, but her clothing was still
being forcibly kept from her skin. Reymond was curious as to why. He knelt
beside the woman and started to slide her blouse up her back. “Excuse me,
Angie” he said respectfully, mindful that she was oblivious in her current
state. Inch by inch he revealed more bruising, until the fabric failed to be
pushed upwards any further, caught by something unseen adjacent to Angie’s bra
strap. Reymond lifted the blouse over the obstruction, exposing a syringe
needle, without syringe, still embedded to the hilt between the woman’s
shoulder blades.
“How did you do yourself there?”
Reymond asked rhetorically.
Chapter - 13.
It was early evening and the area around LastGasp’ was
undergoing its daily transformation from daytime coffee district to night-time
entertainment precinct. The municipal council’s recent investment in
gentrification, including lighting and security had attracted the businesses
and the people. The brothels, like the cafés and the restaurants, were doing a
roaring trade.
Ikel turned down the laneway behind LastGasp’. “Glen’s
got a few car-parks under cover. First in, best dressed. It’s really no safer
than the street, for you or your car, but it’s well lit and I feel better with
my wheels under cover. Still, some pricks have got at my car a few times,”
Ikel explained. “There’s a kind of security system there too,” Ikel smiled,
clearly a party to some joke.
The car pulled into a small carpark underneath a building that
was lit like the nativity. On opening the door, Devlin understood Ikel’s
joke. The smell of spent urine was overwhelming. It seemed that the council’s
financial injection into the area had not extended to the provision of adequate
public toilets. Puddles were on the ground everywhere, and urine stains, old
and new, marked the walls around the five parking spaces.
The odour bit hard into the back of Devlin’s nose and
throat. “This place reeks!” Devlin said, almost gagging. “So the security
system is purely olfactory?” Devlin had at last placed the strange smell in Ikel’s
car.
Ikel looked puzzled, not exactly understanding what Devlin
had said. “It’s not a factory security, it’s stinky security! And Albert is
the night watchman!” he said, pointing to a stationary mass at the front of the
car. “ALBERT! Wake up you lazy bugger!”
Roused by Ikel, Albert stood slowly. He wasn’t very old,
Devlin figured, guessing about fifty, but the years had not been kind. Alberts
face was sullen and weathered. He wore tracksuit pants, a t-shirt and an
oversized coat that would have been more fitting on a polar expedition. He
started to stare at Devlin. “Who’s this then?”
“This is Devlin. He’s new. He’s alright. Be nice!” Ikel
replied, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow to Devlin in suggestion that
he take up the social exchange.
“Hi,” said Devlin, still reeling with the smell. He
looked over Albert again, this time noticing his lack of appropriate footwear.
It had been a mild day, mid-autumn, and the evening chill was settling in, but
Albert was wearing cheap rubber sandals exposing browned toenails that curled
over the end of his toes. Devlin was fixated in revulsion at the combination
of the smell and Albert’s feet.
“I don’t bite!” replied Albert gruffly, stepping forward
to offer his
Reymond could see the outline of her bra strap raising the material of her top,
otherwise pulled taught by the way that she was lying, but her clothing was still
being forcibly kept from her skin. Reymond was curious as to why. He knelt
beside the woman and started to slide her blouse up her back. “Excuse me,
Angie” he said respectfully, mindful that she was oblivious in her current
state. Inch by inch he revealed more bruising, until the fabric failed to be
pushed upwards any further, caught by something unseen adjacent to Angie’s bra
strap. Reymond lifted the blouse over the obstruction, exposing a syringe
needle, without syringe, still embedded to the hilt between the woman’s
shoulder blades.
“How did you do yourself there?”
Reymond asked rhetorically.
Chapter - 13.
It was early evening and the area around LastGasp’ was
undergoing its daily transformation from daytime coffee district to night-time
entertainment precinct. The municipal council’s recent investment in
gentrification, including lighting and security had attracted the businesses
and the people. The brothels, like the cafés and the restaurants, were doing a
roaring trade.
Ikel turned down the laneway behind LastGasp’. “Glen’s
got a few car-parks under cover. First in, best dressed. It’s really no safer
than the street, for you or your car, but it’s well lit and I feel better with
my wheels under cover. Still, some pricks have got at my car a few times,”
Ikel explained. “There’s a kind of security system there too,” Ikel smiled,
clearly a party to some joke.
The car pulled into a small carpark underneath a building that
was lit like the nativity. On opening the door, Devlin understood Ikel’s
joke. The smell of spent urine was overwhelming. It seemed that the council’s
financial injection into the area had not extended to the provision of adequate
public toilets. Puddles were on the ground everywhere, and urine stains, old
and new, marked the walls around the five parking spaces.
The odour bit hard into the back of Devlin’s nose and
throat. “This place reeks!” Devlin said, almost gagging. “So the security
system is purely olfactory?” Devlin had at last placed the strange smell in Ikel’s
car.
Ikel looked puzzled, not exactly understanding what Devlin
had said. “It’s not a factory security, it’s stinky security! And Albert is
the night watchman!” he said, pointing to a stationary mass at the front of the
car. “ALBERT! Wake up you lazy bugger!”
Roused by Ikel, Albert stood slowly. He wasn’t very old,
Devlin figured, guessing about fifty, but the years had not been kind. Alberts
face was sullen and weathered. He wore tracksuit pants, a t-shirt and an
oversized coat that would have been more fitting on a polar expedition. He
started to stare at Devlin. “Who’s this then?”
“This is Devlin. He’s new. He’s alright. Be nice!” Ikel
replied, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow to Devlin in suggestion that
he take up the social exchange.
“Hi,” said Devlin, still reeling with the smell. He
looked over Albert again, this time noticing his lack of appropriate footwear.
It had been a mild day, mid-autumn, and the evening chill was settling in, but
Albert was wearing cheap rubber sandals exposing browned toenails that curled
over the end of his toes. Devlin was fixated in revulsion at the combination
of the smell and Albert’s feet.
“I don’t bite!” replied Albert gruffly, stepping forward
to offer his
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