Read Online Vodka Doesn't Freeze by Leah Giarratano - Free Book Online

shifted in her seat, faced the window.
     
Was the killer planning more deaths? If another paedophile were killed, how many children would that save from being raped? She'd read once that one paedophile might molest up to seventy children in their lifetime. What was the right thing to do here? Jill didn't know any more.
     

10
I T'S UNUSUAL FOR SO many to be here, thought Wayne Crabbe, darting glances around the room. He used a mirror beside him to surreptitiously observe his peers; he knew well that people here did not like to be stared at. An eclectic mix of men were scattered in heavy leather armchairs around what had been built as the ballroom of a sprawling harbourside mansion.
     
A clutch of three over-fed banker types laughed conspiratorially over their clinking drinks. They sat near massive glass doors that in daylight revealed a twelve-million-dollar view. Two men in running shoes hunched together in chairs by the unlit fireplace, whispering over a book placed on the low coffee table in front of them. The rest of the guests – six or seven men – like Wayne, sat or stood alone, heads down, occasionally shooting quick looks at the huge entryway to the low-lit room, obviously waiting for The Owner. Two uniformed waiters moved quietly through the room, delivering drinks and collecting glasses.
     
Wayne sucked in his gut when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Gotta do something about that, he thought, the ladies don't like it. He smiled, remembering Rose Deloso's flattered embarrassment when he'd shown up at her house alone. He'd counted on her assuming that he was interested in her for more than just the job. Lonely ladies are your forte, he told himself in the mirror, straightening his shoulders. And the job offer is genius.
     
Behind his reflection, he noticed a new arrival to the festivities. Wayne was always amused when 'The Judge' showed up; he loved watching the famous Sydney QC slide from loud and pompous to slurred stupor, having to use the wall to hold himself up. Eventually his driver would half-carry him from the room, semi-conscious and drooling. Just last month, Wayne had found him on the bathroom floor lying in his own piss. The country's finest. He'd lifted The Judge's wallet before he left the room.
     
Wayne sipped his strawberry milkshake. The waiters here were used to unusual requests and were hired for their discretion. He knew he too was being watched. He was relatively new here and The Owner kept a close eye on everyone who showed up. Not that Wayne had yet spoken one-to-one with The Owner, but they'd all seen some of his best work. His rape movies, in which he was always masked, were the hottest trade and hardest to get. Wayne had one prized copy, and to get it he'd had to trade 150 points, two of his Asian films, and ten mobile phone shots.
     
He moved over when he saw Tadpole making his way to his table. Fit, fair and forty-one, Tadpole looked more like he was thirty. With hardly any facial hair and a permanent smile, Tadpole was the most popular teacher at Carrindon College, a $4000-a-term school for boys in years five through twelve. Tadpole had got him in here. He was everyone's friend.
     
Wayne pasted on a smile for the smarmy bastard. Wayne had no friends.
     
'Hey, Crabbe. Staying alive?' asked Tadpole, sliding onto the couch, invading Wayne's space, smiling of course. 'Someone doesn't like us. Hear about Dennis the Menace?'
     
'Is that Rocla? I've heard people talking, but I don't know what happened,' said Wayne.
     
'His wife found him last week with his head caved in. The Owner's pissed. Word is Dennis had a copy of one of The Owner's rape movies on his hard drive. Yuck. Who'd want to watch that stuff, anyway? All my boys love playing with me. You just have to use a little sugar. The world needs more love.'
     
Wayne tuned out from Tadpole's theories, and thought about these deaths. That was three in a month or something. Everyone was talking about Carter, Rocla and