Punters turf, p.2
Punter's Turf, page 2
Funny thing, but for the ten years I’d known Oakie, you could count on one hand the times I’d met his wife. On the rare occasion that I’d seen or spoken to her, it had always been at the track around Big Oakie’s stand. So I hadn’t known a lot about Veronica up until now. She was a big-boned woman with large hips and a buxom figure, although nowhere near the weight of Big Oakie. She was strong-willed and came with a fiery temper, perhaps a legacy of her Italian descent. And she loved her daughter dearly and was going to get her back come hell or high water. If anyone in our group thought otherwise, then they’d better walk now.
We all looked uncomfortably at our fingernails for a moment, trying not to meet her eyes.
‘Look, this is a different set of circumstances,’ I said, trying to offer some hope.
Kevin, who’d been quiet until then, backed me up.
‘I think Punter’s right,’ he said. ‘They could have just shit ’emselves on the last job. Killed Keegan’s wife when they found out things weren’t turning out as planned. If they’re the same bunch that did her, they’ve had three months to think this one through and plan it properly. Least we’re talking to ’em.’
‘Or were,’ added Big Oakie despondently. ‘When did they last call, five o’ clock? What’s it now, gone eight, and we don’t know if she’s dead or afuckinlive.’
‘There’s a way we could tell,’ Tiny suggested. ‘Why don’t we just demand to speak to her next time they ring?’
Kevin frowned. ‘Dunno if that would work. If they’re keeping her hostage somewhere, they won’t risk bringing her to some public phone booth to talk to us.’
Oakie looked at me. ‘Are they ringing from a public phone?’
‘It showed a local number on your screen last time they called.’
Oakie had a Cisco business phone in his kitchen which displayed the caller numbers when someone rang in. ‘If they were ringing from a mobile, even one of those untraceable prepaid ones, it would show up as a mobile number.’
I suggested, ‘What we could do when they call again, is get them to ask Michelle a question that only she would know the answer to.’
‘What, like her birthday or something?’ said Oakie.
‘No. Too obvious. They may know that and a whole lot of other personal stuff about her if they’ve had time to set this up properly. It’s gotta be something that only you two, her parents, would know she’s aware of.’
Oakie got up and paced around the living room thinking of a likely question. Tiny asked if she had a pet whose name we could ask.
‘No.’ Veronica shook her head. ‘She hasn’t got any pets.’
‘What about a favourite pop star? Who does she like?’
‘Hell, she’d have a thousand CDs in her bedroom. I wouldn’t have a clue who she rates as hot.’
Oakie turned around abruptly. ‘I’ve got it! You know how Michelle did some clerking for me last July? Well, we made a killing on the Winter Cup at Flemington when that outsider got up at a hundred to one. I told Michelle it was my biggest hold in twenty years.’
I remembered the race. I’d done a packet when the favourite had fallen, bringing down half the field with it.
‘What are you going to ask her about?’ I said.
‘Simple. We get them to ask her which race is the best ever result for me in bookmaking.’
‘She’ll know?’
Oakie nodded confidently. ‘She’ll know.’
Oakie topped our drinks up again, and while he did that, Kevin switched the topic back to who the likely kidnappers might be.
‘This Keegan fella,’ said Kevin, ‘you said he was a bookmaker too?’
I nodded.
‘So we’re assuming it’s the same crew?’
‘Could it be anyone else?’
‘Too much of a coincidence that two bookmakers are targeted inside three months. Unless it’s a copycat. Either way, they must think bookmakers are easy pickings for the kidnapping business.’
‘They?’ said Tiny. ‘You keep saying “they”. How do you know it’s more than one? Could be a loner. Michelle wouldn’t be hard to snatch off the street.’
Kevin shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. If it was like an opportunistic abduction, then maybe someone big and strong like yourself could take her. But there’s too much work and planning for one person. They must have known where to grab her. Her movements. Plus Oakie and Veronica’s. They got Oakie’s private number and address. They probably got a safe house where they’re keeping her. And when it comes to the ransom and exchange, there’s always safety in numbers. If I was to guess, I would say two, maybe three people minimum.’
‘Where did they snatch her from, Oakie?’ I asked.
‘In the gym car park. When she finished her workout, she went outside to her car and they were waiting for her. I got a call about an hour later telling me if I wanted to see my daughter alive again, I was gonna have to find three hundred big ones. I thought it was a joke at first. Till the guy told me to go down and pick up Michelle’s car from outside the gym. Said he didn’t want to leave her car there overnight where it would look suspicious. So I went down, the keys were under the front seat and he’d left a note on the console like he said he would. That’s when I knew they weren’t kidding.’
‘You got the note?’
Veronica fished it out of her handbag and passed it over to me. There was nothing distinguishable about it. Just a computer-generated note printed on a white A4 piece of paper. It said:
Oakie, we’ve got your daughter. If you want to see her alive again, it’s going to cost you $300,000 in cash. You’ve got twenty-four hours to raise it. Shouldn’t be hard for a fat, thieving bookmaker like yourself to come up with. You go to the cops and she dies. You fuck us around and she dies. Choice is yours. Stay close to your phone, we’ll be calling.
I passed it around for Tiny and Kevin to look at. ‘Any clues from the letter?’ I said to Oakie.
He shook his head.
‘You didn’t recognise the guy’s voice on the phone?’
‘I never heard him before in my life.’
I took the note back from Tiny and read it out loud. ‘It says you’ve got twenty-four hours and it shouldn’t be hard for a fat, thieving bookmaker like yourself to come up with three hundred gee.’ Oakie looked at me blankly.
‘You ever stooged anyone out of a payout?’
‘Course not!’ said Oakie indignantly.
‘No one who’d have a reason to come after you for what they think is owed?’
‘No. I’m no angel as far as bookmaking goes, but I play by the rules. Anyone who’s ever been owed by me has always been paid.’
‘The note sounds personal, that’s all.’
‘Only personal part they got right is my weight. Maybe it’s just someone with a grudge against bookmakers. Who knows?’
We wasted another half-hour tossing around theories about who the kidnappers might be. But none of us had a clue. It could be the chief steward or the racecourse handicapper for all we knew.
It got kind of tense as the night wore on. All of us hanging out for a phone call that might or might not come. Veronica offered to fix us some dinner, but no one felt much like eating. She made up an omelette and a salad for us anyway and then she went upstairs to bed and left us to it. Tiny shuffled a deck of cards and we played some five-stud poker without a lot of enthusiasm. Fox Sports was screening some obscure game of golf, which we glanced at from time to time. All of us wanted to drink to pass the time, but Big Oakie was the only one really putting it away. Kevin, Tiny and I had switched to coffee. When we still hadn’t heard anything at midnight, I suggested we might as well get some sleep. I offered to crash on the couch right next to the phone, so if they called I’d be there to answer it.
‘Wouldn’t they be expecting Oakie to answer?’ said Tiny.
‘Yeah, they probably will. But I want to be a circuit-breaker, someone else who talks to them and hopefully gets them to talk back.’
‘Kinda like a negotiator the police use?’
‘Don’t worry, they won’t mistake me for police. We can make out I’m a friend helping to raise the cash. Go on,’ I told Oakie, ‘you might as well get some kip. You’ll need it for the morning. You’ll see, they’ll let us sweat overnight, then they’ll call us tomorrow. Same for you guys,’ I said to Kevin and Tiny.
I took a shower, and then half an hour later I curled up on the couch and hit the sack. Tired as I was, I found it hard getting to sleep. Strange house and noises. Different bed. Thoughts of Michelle and how we were going to get her back safely. So I tossed and turned for a good while before drifting off into a disturbed slumber. I had a strange dream of racehorses bolting through a crowded betting ring, scattering people like ten-pins. A firetruck was chasing the horses around the betting ring, its siren ringing and ringing. The ringing got louder and I woke up with a start to find the ringing was actually coming from the telephone. I sprang up off the couch in a muck sweat and stared at the phone. The dial screen showed it was six thirty-five in the morning. It only seemed like I’d gone to bed ten minutes ago, but I’d been asleep for hours.
I flicked the speaker switch on and answered it, just as the others came rushing in, led by Veronica wrapped in her dressing gown. I mouthed a shushing signal at them all as they joined me around the table.
‘Hello,’ I answered as calmly as I could. I was still coming out of a broken night’s sleep and was trying to snap-to and become alert.
A cocky-sounding voice spoke to me at the other end of the line.
‘Is that Oakie?’
‘No, I’m a friend. I’ll get him for you. Who shall I say is calling?’
‘He’s expecting my call.’
‘Well, who should I say it is?’ Pushing it, but you never knew.
‘Just get him on the fucking blower, pal.’
I motioned to Oakie to take over the call. He was in his dressing gown. Dishevelled hair and lines around his eyes. He hadn’t slept too well either.
‘This is Oakie,’ he said.
‘You took your sweet time answering, didn’t you, fat man? I would have thought after receiving your special delivery last night, you’d have moved a lot quicker.’
The guy let out a cruel little snigger. ‘Who was that who answered the phone? You got cops there?’
‘No. No cops,’ said Oakie defensively. ‘He’s just a close friend of mine, Punter. Helping me raise the money. We’ll have it by tomorrow, I promise.’
‘If you got cops involved, Oakie, deal’s off. You know that, don’t you?’
‘There’s no cops, I swear. Only people who know are my wife, Punter and me. We just want to get Michelle back. Is she okay . . . Please tell me she’s all right?’
The guy went silent for a moment and I didn’t know if he was going to hang up like the first time, but then he started talking again.
‘Well, like the doctors say, she’s as well as can be expected under the circumstances.’ Another snigger. ‘Now, listen, you oversized maggot, enough about Michelle. Our exchange goes off tomorrow or sweet little Michelle goes missing. Permanently. Do you understand?’
‘I . . . I understand,’ said Oakie bleakly.
I didn’t like where this was going at all, how he was treading all over us.
‘How do we know you haven’t killed her already?’ I butted in.
Kevin nodded encouragement and Tiny gave me a thumbsup sign. It threw the kidnapper for a moment, but he was quick to respond.
‘What? Oh, she’s alive all right. But you’ll just have to take my word for it.’
I looked across at Oakie. The big paws were opening and shutting again. He looked like he wanted to reach down the phone and strangle the guy.
‘Uh-uh. Not good enough. If you want Oakie to hand over three hundred large, he’s entitled to know for sure if his daughter’s alive or not.’
That annoyed him. ‘Hey, you little fuck, you don’t go telling me how it is. You hear me?’
‘I’m just trying to help Oakie get his daughter back, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, is that right? You seem to have plenty to fucking say, pal. Put Oakie back on.’
Oakie nodded anxiously at me. ‘I’m here,’ he said.
‘Hey! This business is between you and fucking me, right? You keep your smart-arse friend out of it.’
‘Punter’s only trying to help. We just want to ask Michelle one question, satisfy ourselves she’s okay.’
The guy stopped talking to us, although we could hear some muffled conversation at the other end. I glanced at Tiny and Kevin who were sitting silently, hanging on every word. Kevin had a little Sony recorder out and was taping every bit of the conversation. Veronica nudged Oakie, anxious to get a response.
‘You cool with that?’ he asked.
‘What’s the question you wanna ask her?’
‘Ask her which race is the best result for her father in twenty years of bookmaking.’
He thought about that for a moment and then asked Oakie to repeat it.
‘Okay. I’ll ask her, but she’s not anywhere near this phone. I’ll have to come back to you with her answer. In the meantime, we’re going right ahead as planned. You say you’ll have the money?’
‘We’ll have it all by around nine thirty this morning.’
‘You make sure you do or you’ll get more than a fucking ear delivered next time. Now put that smart arse friend of yours back on the line.’
A moment ago I had been persona non grata. Apparently we were now back on speaking terms.
‘Punter, is it? What kind of a fucking name is that anyway?’
‘It’s the only one I’ve got.’
‘You’ve got a lot to say, pal, and not much to do by the sound of things. You say you’re helpin’ Oakie out, huh? Well, I’m gonna give you something to do. You feelin’ fit?’
‘Fit? I’m in reasonable shape, why?’
‘You gotta be in better shape than fat Oakie is.’ He broke off his conversation then with another cruel little laugh. ‘Anyway, whatever your condition is, at one p.m. tomorrow you’re gonna be outside the public phone booth opposite the Caulfield Racecourse members’ entrance in Kambrook Road. Think you can find that, genius?’
‘I can find it,’ I said.
‘Good. I’ll ring you on that phone.’
‘What if someone else is using it?’ Reasonable question, I thought.
‘Am I gonna have trouble with you, pal?’
‘No. I just . . .’
‘You just fucking be there when I ring. Now, you’re gonna wear a bright yellow baseball cap, singlet and shorts so you stand out. And you’ll carry the money in a yellow pack on your back. You following, all yellow, right?’
‘I’m with you.’
‘And you’ll take Oakie’s mobile phone with you so I can call you if I need to. If we see you’re not alone or being followed, or there’s any sign of police, the deal’s off. If we see you talking on your mobile to anyone but us, it’s all over. If you try and hold back on the money, finito. So don’t get cute. You get it?’
‘I get it.’
‘You won’t know when we’re watching you and you won’t know where we are. And if we’re not satisfied there’s just you delivering the money, all bets are cancelled. So don’t be looking to fuck us over. Right?’
‘I won’t stooge you.’
‘Good. Then you be at that phone tomorrow by yourself and I’ll have an answer for Oakie’s question to Michelle.’
2
After the kidnapper had called, we all had breakfast and discussed what else we needed to do before tomorrow. There wasn’t a whole lot we could do. Big Oakie had to get the rest of the cash. That wouldn’t take him long. He figured he’d have it all by early morning and Tiny and Kevin were going to go along and lend a hand. As for me, well, I had a small shopping list of things to get together. Around nine we went our separate ways, agreeing to meet up again at Oakie’s place early on Saturday morning.
My old VW Transporter van was parked outside where I’d left it. It was getting on in years and looked a little out of place among the prestige cars in leafy Mont Albert Road. I’d first bought it when I’d taken up surfing years ago. The advantages of storing boards and changing into a wetsuit on a cold morning inside a van far outweigh the attractions of some sporty little coupe. Besides, I’d had some treasured surfing treks up and down the east coast in that VDub. So I’d stuck with the old bus even though I could probably afford the repayments on something newer. But I was a long way from any surf breaks. Here in safe, prosperous Balwyn, mothers were driving their kids from big houses with lush gardens to expensive private schools. Except this neighbourhood didn’t seem quite so safe any more.
Before I could turn the key in the ignition, my mobile rang. It was Kate.
‘Hi, Punter. It’s me. I need to talk to you about a horse I’m buying into. Can you check it out for me, tell me what you think?’
Hardly anyone calls me by my first name, especially exgirlfriends. Kate was a crime reporter with The Age. A more unlikely looking crime journalist you’d be hard-pressed to find. She was a slim brunette somewhere in her late twenties, which made her several years younger than me. She had ocean-blue eyes and a waist slim enough to clasp both hands around when you made love to her. I knew, I’d managed it once before and I’d been trying for a repeat performance over the past couple of years without any luck. We’d made the mistake of having sex on our first date. Well, I didn’t think it was a mistake. I still thought about it. A lot.
We’d met at one of those Derby Eve Balls where everyone drinks too much champagne and swaps tables with everyone else. I ended up on hers and I never left. Except to take her home, where we fucked each other greedily for what was left of the night. The next day she told me it was a mistake. She’d broken up with her boyfriend, had decided to get even with the first available male, whatever. Cut a long story, she wouldn’t even meet with me for three months after that. And dating me again wasn’t on her agenda. It wasn’t for want of trying on my part.
Kate was an avid racegoer, so I managed to see her at the track most Saturdays. I would sidle up to her nonchalantly in the mounting yard as she watched the horses and pretend it was a coincidence. I would drop by ever so casually to the second-floor members’ bar, which I knew she and her girlfriends frequented at Caulfield races. And I wasn’t short on handing tips to her in the betting ring, something I was loath to do for anyone else. I still asked her out on a regular basis, but there’s only so many knock-backs a guy can take before the ego starts to protest; says enough is enough.
