Sharp Turn - Marianne Delacourt [69]
I knew Johnny Viaspa’s white limo too well from my recent experience of hanging from his front gate while a dog tried to bite my butt.
Chapter 23
I WAITED A FEW minutes until they’d gone, thanking every deity that I could name that I hadn’t brought my easily recognisable car. Then I pulled out onto the street and headed for home. Bok was snoring by the second set of traffic lights.
I was so tired that the white lines on the road had turned to doubles, so I fished in my bag and found a small packet of red frogs – food-van booty. The frogs gave me a bit of a lift but I was still too exhausted to take Bok to his place, which would mean another hour faffing around getting him up in the lift. Instead, I manhandled him out of Mona and into my flat where I dumped him on the couch.
‘Don’t worry, he’s a friend,’ I told Cass when she raised her head from under her blanket. ‘Go back to sleep.’
We all slept until late.
I woke up less tired but weighed down by dread. Toni Tozzi. Johnny Viaspa. Audrey. Bolo. Death threats. The race. It was hard to pick which one to fixate on first, so I crawled out of bed and stumbled to the sink, where I drank a litre of water without stopping to draw a breath.
Cass was buried under her blanket still, and Bok’s face was buried into the back of the couch. I checked he was still breathing then slapped him across the head.
He surfaced like a drowning man, eyes blinking, mouth open and gasping. ‘Whaaa-at –’
‘– were you thinking?’ I blasted him.
He saw it was me and groggily swung his feet onto the floor. ‘Fuck. Who painted the world white?’
I switched on the kettle and started spooning coffee into cups. ‘You owe me a conversation. So get with it.’
‘T. Go easy. I’m delicate,’ he moaned.
‘Outside,’ I ordered without sympathy and led the way.
We sat in JoBob’s garden chairs, in the sunshine, and he squinted while he sipped coffee. ‘Why did you let me do that?’ he said.
It was a question we’d often asked each other over the years at various times. Our answer to one another was always the same. ‘Suck it up.’
But I let him finish his first cup, and got him a refill and a pair of sunnies, before I dumped on him.
He didn’t speak much as I got through my list of worries, including seeing Toni Tozzi with Johnny Viaspa last night.
When I’d finished, Bok looked wide awake and a little too freaked out. I relied on him to be the calm one; the one with the plan. I didn’t like seeing him rattled.
‘This is what you’re going to do. You ring Ignatius and tell him what you know, then pull Wal off the job and have him watch you,’ he said firmly, thrusting his finger at me for emphasis. ‘And you ring Fiona Bligh and give her the numberplate of the car that’s been following you and tell her someone’s tried to break into your flat.’
‘But that’ll bring up all the Tozzi/Viaspa stuff and I don’t want to go there.’
‘Tara,’ he said sternly, ‘you have no choice.’
He was right. I couldn’t continue pretending I could handle this.
‘What about Antonia?’ I said.
‘None of your business – it’ll only make more trouble when you’ve got more than enough already. Keep out of it. Let Nick Tozzi take care of his own house.’
‘But it’s Viaspa she’s buying her gear from.’
He shrugged. ‘Still not your worry. You don’t want to give Viaspa another reason for wanting you dead.’
There was nothing sarcastic or melodramatic about Bok’s tone. He was in earnest.
I stood up. ‘Okay. I’ll go to the gym, then I’ll call Bolo and Bligh.’
‘Why do you need to go to the gym first?’
‘I want to have a clear head.’ And keep my appointment with Nice Guy.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘You promise you’ll call them today?’
‘By lunchtime. Cross my heart.’
He stood up and gave me a hug. ‘Sensible girl.’
Back inside, Cass was wide awake and bubbling over about a job interview at the Claremont Growers Market on Monday.
‘It’s for the fish department. But I’ll be able to move to greengroceries as soon as a spot opens.’
‘That’s great, Cass,’ I said, surprised by her excitement.
I settled back to enjoy the ham and cheese