Black Wattle Creek (Charlie Berlin #2)(70)

‘The kids will be probably be full of pizza, so maybe just fish and chips for you and me?’

‘That sounds good. I’ll pick some up. It’s Friday, Nick will be open late. I love you, Rebecca, you know that, right? You and the kids.’

‘Me too, always and forever.’

He kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘Always and forever.’

Before he left he rummaged around in the bathroom for a bit, then spent a few more minutes out in the backyard. Once he had everything he needed he started the Studebaker and backed out of the driveway. Rebecca watched him go from the front porch.





FORTY-THREE


With no one answering the phone at Lazlo’s home or Callahan’s funeral parlour, Berlin decided to try the restaurant in St Kilda.

‘I’m looking for Mr Horvay, Lazlo Horvay.’

The eye behind the peephole in the back door studied him. ‘I’m a friend.’

The peephole slid shut and Berlin waited. He had climbed over the fence at the back of the Café Budapest because the gate was locked. Luckily there were rubbish bins lined up outside the fence in the alleyway.

He had parked several streets away and walked. He knew this was a smart move when he spotted the dark-grey Vauxhall parked directly opposite the restaurant. The aerials gave it away as a Special Branch vehicle, and the nasty scratch in the duco running the length of the driver’s side confirmed it. It looked like the occupants were asleep, but he didn’t want to chance it. He’d walked down an extra block, quickly crossing Acland Street at Robe Street, shielded by a passing truck. The laneway leading to the back of the café had been next on his right.

The peephole opened again, and a moment later the door. Behind Lazlo, Berlin could see men playing cards in a dimly lit, smoke-filled room.

‘Charlie, they tell me you consider me a friend. I am most touched. And as a friend, might I tell you, you look lousy. Like a hatful of dogs’ arseholes is the correct expression, I believe.’

‘I don’t have a lot of time, Lazlo, so let’s not fool around.’

The Hungarian seemed genuinely offended. ‘Charlie, I am sincere in this, believe me. In our friendship I mean.’

‘Okay, I believe you. But you might want to change your mind about that. I need you to do me a favour, and it’s a big one. Can I come in?’

Lazlo glanced back over his shoulder. ‘My friends become easily nervous with the police. Out front, in the café, it is okay for us to talk, but in there … ’

Berlin understood. ‘Where else we can go? Somewhere private. Special Branch are parked out the front and I’d rather they didn’t see us together.’

Lazlo nodded and stepped outside, pulling the .door closed behind him.

‘I’ve got my car a couple of blocks over,’ Berlin said. ‘It’s cold, you might need a coat.’

‘No need for the car, Charlie. You follow me, yes.’ He unlocked the back gate and led Berlin a short distance down the alley. They stopped at the rear of a dilapidated, three-storey stone terrace backing right on to the roadway and Lazlo knocked on the door. The woman who opened it seemed surprised to see him.

‘Laz? What a surprise, I wasn’t expecting you.’

She was about forty, well dressed, with permed hair. Lazlo took her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed it. ‘It is good to see you, Rose, I believe I missed you earlier.’

Behind her Berlin noticed a redhead coming down the corridor, leading a smiling, slightly swaying man by the hand. The girl was in her twenties and obviously naked under a silk negligee that was gaping open. She led the man into a room off the corridor.

‘Some of the girls said you were going away, Lazlo, leaving us.’

‘Not tonight, Rose, as én kis virag, my little flower. But sadly soon. Tonight I need a quiet room for just an hour, a place where I will not be disturbed.’

‘And a room for your friend?’ She studied Berlin and he hoped he didn’t look as crook as Lazlo had described.

‘I think Maude would be his type, don’t you, Laz?’

Lazlo appeared to be considering the suggestion. ‘Indeed, Rose, and while I agree Maude has many talents, and she is very dear to my heart, my friend here is both happily married and also, sadly, a policeman.’

‘We cater to both married men and the police, Laz, you know that.’

Lazlo put his hand on Berlin’s shoulder. ‘Charlie, you see my friend Rose here is most ecumenical.’ He turned back to the woman. ‘However, tonight, Rose, we shall make a charade that this is a simple boarding house catering to pretty young women who find clothing a hindrance.’

‘You’re a funny bugger, Lazlo.’

‘This I am told frequently, as Charlie here can attest. But humour me in this, perhaps number eleven is free?’

Rose glanced at a diamond-studded wristwatch. ‘Go for your life, Laz, next rush won’t be for a little bit yet.’ She smiled at Berlin. ‘Taxi drivers and members of parliament and detectives stopping in for a quick one before heading home to hearth and family. Anyone from Russell Street you might want me to say hello to Charlie? We get all the brass in here. Do you know a bloke named Chater? I could tell you some stories there, believe you me.’

Lazlo reacted to the look on Berlin’s face. ‘Have no fear, Charlie, my friend Rose is joking. She is most discreet.’ He led Berlin towards the stairs. ‘Number eleven is this way. It has a quite comfortable armchair, as I remember. Unlike the bed, it has almost never been used.’