Working Holiday Pt 01

DOWN THE GREAT OCEAN ROAD

This is the first story in a new series. I've set it in the late eighties in the seaside resort town of Lorne. I've deliberately injected some of the unique Australian sayings and lingo into it so apologies to those who don't speak it. I'll provide a brief translation at the end of the story. I'm hoping to drag this one out a bit longer as it involves a police investigation into a suspicious death so we'll see what develops out of it.

*****

The first time Kay met Nickie she wasn't sure if the younger woman was admiring her or the black Charger she was leaning against. Kay had just topped up the radiator with water and was taking time to drink some Coke when she heard a wolf whistle and turning around found herself staring at a slightly built younger woman who looked to be about eighteen.

She was wearing a pair of skin tight Levis and a tight midriff top that rode up over her belly button as she walked. Her hair was straw blonde and fell to her waists in loose waves, framing a freckled face that was free of makeup. Her blue eyes hinted of mischievousness and when she noticed Kay the mouth twisted into a lopsided grin as she sauntered across the forecourt to where Kay had parked once she filled the tank.

"Nice car, for a wog chariot," she stared at the V8 engine, "fucking hell, did ya polish the rockers and all?"

Kay glanced at the shining rocker covers and shrugged.

"Came with the car."

"Name's Nickie," she held out her hand.

"Kay," she took her hand briefly.

"Rhymes with gay," Nickie released her hand, "sorry, just had to slip that in, so where's your bloke?"

"Don't have one," Kay replied, "this car's mine."

"Cool," Nickie gave her the once over, "so, you came down to Lorne looking for a root?"

"You could say that," she replied.

"Well there's plenty of blokes will want a ride in this, even if it is a wog chariot."

"I'll keep it in mind," Kay frowned, "not that I'm into guys."

Nickie didn't reply at first because she was too busy inspecting the engine but a moment later she looked up with a bemused expression on her face.

"Are you really gay or are you just taking the piss outta me?"

"I'm really gay," she straightened up.

"No way," Nickie also straightened up and gave her the once over, "if you say so, but I wouldn't have taken you for a lesbo, you're way too good looking," her eyes took in the summer dress, "you haven't even got army boots and all lesbos wear them."

Kay winced at the term and bit her lip as she looked past her.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Well, not really, I just get tired of hearing that word but if you've got to use it."

"Sorry," Nickie added extra emphasis to the word, "didn't mean to offend, I just never met a real one in the flesh before."

Kay was about to reply when Nickie's eyes suddenly narrowed and when Kay turned to see what she was looking at she found four guys about the same age as Nickie staring at them. One of them said something and the others laughed.

"Mates of yours?"

"Like fuck they are," Nickie scowled, "they're gonna check out your wheels, I'll say you're my cousin but don't tell them you're gay."

Kay was about to tell Nickie what she did for a living but by then it was too late as the guys started walking towards them. The younger woman moved around Kay to lean against the front quarter, which put her between Kay and the guys, who seemed a little wary of the wiry girl.

"Thought I could smell something," Nickie snorted, "did ya mum let ya off the leash today?"

"Turn it up," the tallest guy rolled his eyes, "just 'cos your grandpa's an ex pig don't scare me."

Kay's eyes narrowed slightly at the slang term for police, suddenly glad she'd kept her mouth shut but she did move away from the car to put herself in a better position.

"Nice wheels, for a wog mobile," the guy went on, "where's your fella?"

"He's up in Sydney," Nickie spoke for her, "this is my big cousin, Kay, she's down for a few days."

"Kay," his eyes shifted and a sandy haired youth sniggered.

The others were staring at the engine now and another kid whistled.

"I'll bet she goes like shit off a shanghai."

"Something like that," Kay remarked, "puts the Holden boys to shame."

"My brother's got a GTHO," the first kid said, "he'd give you a drag."

"Well, I'm not here for the drag racing," she replied, "I'm just down for a few weeks to get a sun tan and sink a few tinnies."

The conversation ended not long afterwards, although there was undisguised animosity between Nickie and the first youth, whose name was Mick. She watched them walk away, heading for the main road running through the beachside town of Lorne.

"So where are you staying?" Nickie asked her.

"At a mate's joint," she replied, "so your grandfather was a cop?"

"Yeah," Nickie regarded her for a moment, "that doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No, just a weird coincidence," she smiled, "I'm a cop too."

"No shit," Nickie stared at her, "well, fuck me," she grinned.

"So you wanna go for a beer later? I'm nineteen in case you're wondering, got me licence at home because I haven't got a car yet. I work out at the pub pulling beers."

Kay couldn't think of a reason to say no let alone yes and so she just shrugged and closed the bonnet.

"Okay, but just one, seriously. I have to pick up the keys from a neighbour."

"What's his name?"

"David McNeish."

"Haggis," Nickie corrected her, "right now he'll be warming up his favourite seat at the pub, I'll introduce you."

A few minutes later the Charger pulled out onto the main street and Nickie slid the tape out of the tape player.

"Fuck oath, Acka dacka, you got good taste," she pressed the AC/DC tape in just as Kay drove past the guys they'd just been talking to. Nickie glanced up quickly and pressed the horn as she extended her finger in the universal sign of contempt.

"You really don't like those guys."

"Ha ha, you must be a cop," Nickie grinned, "that tall streak of pelican shit is Mick the Dick, he's the ringleader of the Lorne Boys. I hate his guts, I busted a pot over his head last year."

"Why? Kay's eyes flickered to her, "if you don't mind me asking."

"Because he's a cunt," she replied, "and a fucking rapist."

"A rapist," she glanced at her, "he didn't?"

"Me? Fuck no, I would have cut his nuts off if he even tried, nah, it was someone else."

"So what happened? To the girl?"

"He committed suicide."

It took a split second for Kay to register that fact but when she did she pulled over and came to a dead stop.

"He raped a guy?"

"Yeah," she stared straight ahead, "poor Paul wasn't even gay, or I didn't think so but he looked like he might be so Mick kept hassling him, then he raped him. I never saw it but Paul's sister told me, then the next thing we heard he walked out into the sea and drowned. The cops kind of asked Mick about it but his old man's a big knob in town. He runs a landscaping business."

She fell silent after that and in the rear view mirror Kay could see Mick and his gang coming closer and so she pulled out into the street and accelerated.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"There's nothing you can do if that's what you're thinking," Nickie spoke up, "what's done is done but I still hate his fucking guts."

"And he won't be at the pub?"

"Not today he won't, he got barred for life again last night, second time this month. Nah, he'll get one of his boyfriends to go into the bottle shop and get a slab while he hangs around like a bad smell outside."

Which was precisely what happened some ten minutes later as they sat in the rooftop beer garden overlooking the beach. Mick did notice them and Kay memorised his features as Nickie gave him the finger again. Mick just grabbed his balls and gave her a come hither motion.

"Yeah, yeah, I wouldn't suck your cock if it was covered in cream," she grimaced and then turned and nodded at a group of older men sitting at a table.

"The bald one with the patch over his eye is Haggis, here, pull up a pew and I'll bring him over," she set her beer on the table.

She sauntered over to the older men with all the confidence of a much older woman and Kay turned her attention to Mick who was still loitering outside. The guy did put on a show of bravado but she'd seen all that before. She'd been raised in Thomastown and her beat in Collingwood was one of the more dangerous ones. Someone like Mick probably wouldn't last a night in the high rise estate in Collingwood, but out here in an out of the way beachside town he could get away with just about anything.

So why had the police not charged him? One reason could simply be the fact that the alleged victim was now dead, but there could be other reasons she frowned. From simple factors like overworked staff to an arrangement between a sergeant and certain members of the community. It shouldn't happen but it was almost considered a necessary evil if you wanted to maintain the balance between order and chaos.

She was interrupted in her reverie by Nickie and the old Scotsman she called Haggis. His good eye took in her slim figure as he sat down at their table.

"So you're mates with George."

"Yeah, he's my sergeant. He let me use his joint instead of booking into a caravan park."

"He's a good mate," Haggis inclined his head as Nickie sat down opposite him, "how long are you staying?"

"A couple of weeks," she replied.

"Well once you've wet your whistle we'll get the keys for you."

"I'm coming too," Nickie announced.

Kay managed a smile at that. She was already warming to the feisty younger woman who could face up to the local tough guy without blinking. Nickie reminded her very much of herself a few years ago, and truth be told if not for the intervention of an observant policewoman, she might have ended up on the wrong side of the law. Kay pushed that memory out of the way and focused on the here and now as Haggis proceeded to tell her about the sights she'd probably like to check out over the next few days. Some of the attractions she already knew about but there were others she didn't know about but when she confessed that to Nickie an hour later her new friend just shrugged.

"I'm just down the road and around the corner."

This was said as she wrote down her address and phone number on a notepad.

"Don't worry, I won't tread on your toes in case you get lucky but give me a call, I work most arvos and nights but I get two days off a week not counting Sunday."

And then she was gone leaving Kay feeling a trifle lonely. Nickie could talk the leg off an iron chair and now Kay was sitting in an empty living room staring at a watercolour of the vast scrubby plains of northwestern Victoria, probably the Mallee she mused. A nearby picture near was a passable painting of the rock formation, The Twelve Apostles. There were other paintings that looked as if they'd been done somewhere around here.

Kay rose to take a closer look and noticed the scrawled initials G. Wallace. Her sergeant had painted the others too she noticed.

"So you're a painter," she murmured, "you are a dark horse."

She finished her inspection of the holiday home in the bedroom. The wardrobe had some of his clothes but on the other side she saw clothes that would never fit George's rather plump wife.

"So, now your secret's out," she smirked, "you've got a bit on the side."

For an instant she thought of Vickie but the clothes looked as if they'd just hang on her, besides they were a little too conservative. Even so, she might know something of the arrangement. This was a small town and whilst the population swelled during the summer months, for most of the year it was just a small town in a picturesque location.

Small towns held secrets close to their hearts. You could live in one for twenty years and still be the newcomer but this morning Nickie had let a secret out of the bag. Rape was one of those things that was hard enough to prove if the victim was a woman. The usual questions started with, "what were you doing dressed like that?" And ended with, "did you do anything to provoke the attack?" It got worse when the victim was male because cops and lawyers assumed he must be gay, and that was without taking into account the extra 'attention' a guy would attract by being raped, it was as if he'd been emasculated and condemned to the outer fringes of society.

He wasn't gay.

Nickie's words came back to her and Kay straightened up as she ran a hand through her shoulder length blonde hair.

I'm on holiday, it's a cold case and I'm an outsider.

Nevertheless, it nagged at her for the rest of the day as she ducked down to the supermarket to pick up a few groceries and as if to jog her memory she saw Mick chatting up a girl when she stepped outside. He gave her a cursory nod and went back to the girl but as she passed him something he said caused her to turn her head.

"I've right along this coast from Warnambool to Geelong a million times and you must be the sexiest sheila I've seen yet."

She could picture the distance in her head, granted kids could travel a fair distance for a good time and he was obviously trying to impress her, but what if? Kay frowned as she unlocked the boot and dropped the bags into it. She closed the boot lid and came to a decision.

Okay, let's find out more about you.

Dropping in at the local station would be a bad idea, no one wanted city cops interfering, especially if it was just a hunch but she had Nickie and perhaps her grandfather. She checked the map again before pulling out into the main street and heading back home via Nickie's house. She already knew the address, a natural consequence of her job. You had to memorise all sorts of information, faces, names, numbers, dates and addresses.

Nickie's street was lined with a mixture of weatherboard and brick veneer homes on quarter acre blocks with neat front yards and the two residents she saw were obviously retirees. Kay pulled up outside Nickie's house and studied the exterior, nothing the standard fretwork under the eaves and the brilliant white woodwork. An old man was watering the garden and he glanced up as Kay got out of the car.

"G'day, you must be Nickie's grandfather."

"That'd be me," the man replied, "you must be the city copper."

"Busted," she pushed the gate open, "Kay."

"Les," he twisted the hose nozzle, "how long you down for?"

"A couple of weeks."

"Well you've picked the right time for it, six weeks ago you couldn't swing a cat in the main street but now the town's empty."

"Just the way I like it," she glanced at the front door, "is Nickie in?"

"She's off to work, come on inside. You want a coldie?"

"Nah, too early."

"You sure you're on holiday?" Les raised an eyebrow as he opened the flywire door for her.

Nickie came out buttoning a white shirt and Kay caught the glimpse of a white bra, she didn't look surprised to see her as she tucked the shirt into her black trousers.

"G'day, again," she smiled, "what can I do you for?"

Kay managed a smile at the deliberate play on words.

"I was going for a counter meal tonight, and seeing as I'm just around the corner I thought I'd offer you a lift to the pub."

"Oh," Nickie's eyes flickered warily, "okay, just wait till I get my bag," she turned about and left the room.

"That's nice of you," Les ran a hand across his balding pate.

"Well, she kind of came to the rescue this morning when I arrived here, how was I to know that David was propping up the bar at the pub? I would have been parked out the front for hours."

"He's never been the same since his boy died."

"How did he die?"

"Suicide," Les replied, "David's boy put his dad's revolver to his head and blew his brains out, it was a queer case," he licked his lips, "the boy was found dressed in his mother's clothes. No one ever thought young Brian was that way inclined, it tore the family apart. He separated from his wife not long after and she moved back to Melbourne, she's got a sister there."

Nickie came into the living room at that moment.

"Well I'm sorry to hear that," she glanced at Nickie, "you ready?"

"Almost, I have to put my face on."

"And I have to drop the food off at the house, I've got stuff to go in the fridge."

"Cool," she kissed her grandfather on the cheek, "bye now."

Kay didn't say any more until she was pulling away from the house.

"How come you live with your grandparents?"

"My mum's a working girl up the Cross, it was either a foster home or my grandparent's joint but my grandma died three years ago so now it's just me and my grandfather."

"Do you have much contact with your mother?"

"Fuck no, she's a fucking moll," she pouted, "I mean she's my mum but she's too busy hocking her box and shooting up scag."

"I'm sorry," she glanced at her, "it must be tough."

"I don't have many memories of her," she replied, "I was only five when the social workers took me away and brought me down here," she shifted in her seat, "so, what's all this about? Do you have the hots for me or what? Not that I mind because I'd still root you even if you are a girl but just come out and say it."

Kay smiled and shook her head.

"Tempting thought, but it's not about that. Your grandfather was just telling me about Brian," she shifted gear, "did he have anything to do with Mick?"

"A bit, he was the same age as Mick but because his birthday was November he was in the next year under Mick he found it hard. Mick used to make him do all the dirty work and at school he'd never let Brian hang out with them on the oval."

She looked over at her as Kay turned the corner into her street.

"Why are you asking?"

"I'll explain in a minute," she nudged the accelerator, "but outside of school hours, did they hang out a lot?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Mick had a reputation at school that he had to protect but outside of school he let a few things slip. They used to go to the beach a lot."

"So, do you think Mick knew that Brian liked to dress in girls' clothes?"

"Grandpa told you a lot already," she frowned, "no, I didn't even know Brian was a bloody tranny, I would have been nicer to him if I knew but his old man was shocked."

"Yeah, he did and it's got me curious now. You told me Mick raped Paul but one of his mates was found dead dressed in his mother's clothes, I'm starting to build up a picture here."

"What are you saying?" Nickie stared at Kay as she pulled up outside the house and turned off the engine.

"Look, I'll be honest with you. The chances of proving Mick drove Paul to suicide are hard to prove but if I knew more about the situations I might be able to speak to people in Melbourne and see what they think. It's possible he's done similar things in the past, I overheard him boasting about driving up and down the coast, presumably looking for girls. This guy is fucking disturbed about something but seeing as I'm on holiday, and not a local I can't do this alone. I need someone with local knowledge to give me some pointers. I can't promise I'll find anything, I may not find a bloody thing but I can at least ask around and do a bit of informal investigation."

For a few moments Kay thought she'd lost her but then Nickie exhaled slowly and ran a hand through her hair. She took a pack of Winfield out of her handbag and lit a cigarette, her reply came as she dangled her hand out the window.

"There's something you don't know about Mick."

"What?"

"The reason he drives up and down the coast looking for girls," she took another toke from the cigarette, "no woman here will touch him any more."

"Why not?"

"Mick can't stay hard," she managed a sly grin, "girls talk and this is a small town. He always denies it of course and uses threats of violence to keep girls from telling the guys but it's like holding sand in your hand, some of it always gets out."