David Foard - Published Author

CHAPTER THREE.

I went to Tiffany's hair stylist, while Fitzgerald took a walk down Burelli Street to the council office block.

It had been almost a week since coming out of hospital, and I'd never spent such a miserable time in all my life. Not because of the operation or even my hair, despite the pain they both brought me whenever I looked in the mirror, but mainly because of the small child who ran out in front of me during the hold-up.

There still hadn't been any word of her, and the papers had relegated any mention of the story to page seven.

"There's not a lot I can do with this," Lisa said, dragging the hair to the right side of my head between her fingers, then rubbing her palm over my scalp. "What you been up to? Lover got a kinky compulsion with a razor has he?"

She turned my head one way then another, and finally announced, "You've two choices, but I wouldn't want you to tell anyone where you had them done. Is that okay?"

I sighed and kept pulling my hair over my head to hide the damage. My single answer sealed my fate.

"What?"

Lisa crinkled her nose, leaned against the counter top with back to the mirror, and folded her arms.

"You can either have the whole lot short... very short, and look like a skinhead at a sheep shearing contest, or..."

"Or..." I echoed sadly, caressing my red locks between fingers and thumb.

"Or you can be very trendy and do a Sinad O'Conner."

I nearly died.

"I've done a few," assured Lisa smartly. "It'll be good, long as you don't go around with any Irishmen."

As Lisa continued to pull and flatten my hair, trying to convince me of the merits of the scheme, all I could imagine was Fitzgerald's laugh, and his cutting remarks at the sight of me with an Irish singer's hairstyle... or should I say head-style... together with the words of her song: Nothing Compares 2 U.

"I went to the doctor guess what he told me

guess what he told me

he said girl U better have fun

no matter what you do

but he's a fool

'cos nothing compares

nothing compares 2 U.

And thought of my hair. Finally I uttered,

"Balance it all up, so I can at least go out without this damned beanie on my head."

Within thirty minutes I looked like Bashful from the seven dwarfs. I just kept looking in the mirror, trying to recognise who the hell I was.

I paid... neglected to thank anyone, pulled the beanie back over my head, and marched briskly out of the place.

If I ever found the man who shot that stupid pellet into my head, I'd cut off more than his golden fuzz, I can assure you of that.

I drank two coffees at Antonella's, as though they were whiskeys, mumbled and grumbled to myself as I sat in the heat of the midday sun, wearing shorts, tee shirt and woolly cap on my head... much to the amusement of a cheeky imp who laughed openly at me and yelled,

"Brain gone to sleep?"

"Get Faxed," I answered vehemently, and turned away, only to see Fitzgerald strolling towards me from the Church street entrance.

He was dressed in large checkered shorts, two sizes too big, brown belt, two sizes too tight, and a bright pink tee shirt with 'Rip Curl' on the front... too many years, too young. He completed his outfit with brown sandals and pale green walk socks, topping the lot with flip-up sun shades attached to his glasses.

He was whistling, hands clasped behind his back as he ambled closer.

"If I didn't know better," he stated simply, "I might think you weren't happy to see me. What's the matter?"

I snapped - I know I snapped, but he didn't react the way I wanted, so I seethed while he sat opposite.

"We've made some progress," he said. "I managed to talk with Mark someone-or-other. He's in charge of the cleaning staff for the local council, and he provided details of the men on duty the morning of the robbery."

Then he looked at me strangely.

[hidepost=9]"Why do you remind me of someone, Elizabeth. Is it something you've done with... Well no matter. The thing is, child. There were only three men allocated to the mall area, and two of those didn't have trolleys for emptying bins. And do you know why? No I suppose you don't. Have you been slimming?" he asked, and I slid further into the bench, drawing myself under shadow from the green sun umbrella.

"So the gist of it is, despite police reports and the account of witnesses... You have done something to yourself, child. Is it a new hat you've upon your baldy-locks head?"

That did it... I blew. Expletive followed expletive, and 'Bullpit' was only used in the vernacular. People hurried past, birds took flight, skinks hid under and around concrete blocks, while the doctor popped an extra-strong mint into his mouth and tossed it casually between gums, and remained absolutely calm.

When I had finished, he continued as though I hadn't said a word.

"Well that's fine then. I'm glad you can see the significance of all this. It had me worried at first, but I know now, everything will turn out all right, so it will."

"Did I just make myself unequivocally clear?"

"The bit about 'Bashful' wasn't all that clear," he added, "But I'm sure you knew what you were babbling about."

I rested my head against a propped up hand, and finally relinquished any semblance of being normal.

"What does the cleaner have to do with the robbery?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Fitzgerald grinned. "And the answer is - Nothing at all. There now, what do you think of that, eh? Surprising. Startling. Beyond belief," he prompted, clearly enjoying himself again.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I must be getting a little thick." He nodded and I tried to ignore him. "What was the point of finding out if the cleaner was, or wasn't involved in the robbery?"

"Why don't you take that silly hat off, Elizabeth. You look like a boxer. Besides," he added, "I think your brain could do with a little airing."

When I dragged it off, revealing my shorn head, bumps, warts and all, he took the glasses from his face, wiped them carefully between finger and thumb, then replaced them on his nose, before a slight stretch of the lower lip, gave away the fact he was laughing.

"See... I knew it. People are going to laugh and make fun of me."

"Tst, heaven's no. Put the hat back on again, Elizabeth. Now you definitely look like a boxer."

"That's all I need. Thanks."

He reached across the table and took my hand, raised an eyebrow thoughtfully as he leaned towards me.

"Would you be needing a manager?" he stated with utmost sincerity. "Johnny Lewis might be available. Or Fenech himself might take the job. Tyson's a bit big for you."

I withdrew my hand sharply, thrusting my chin forward while tossing the woollen cap into a nearby bin.

"This is me... Take it or leave it."

"That's better," Fitzgerald chided. Now perhaps we can get back to more important matters. Such as the recent disappearance of Louise Anita James."

Suddenly I realised just how selfish I was. The longer I brooded over my own affliction, the worse I had become. Fitzgerald must have seen my irritation and, if you'll pardon the expression, shadow boxed me into a corner.

"I'm sorry... "

"No-one loved those glorious red locks of yours, more than me. But if you ever make fun of thinning bald men again, I shall twirl my much longer hair, and remind you of this very day, so I shall."

He thrust his hand across the table and said,

"Deal?"

"Deal," I answered, and raked my fingers across the top of my head just for good measure. "Now tell me all about Louise Anita James. What has she to do with garbage men?"

Fitzgerald stood and said, "Let's walk," and turned up Globe lane towards Crown Street.

He was standing near the Radio Rentals window by the time I caught up with him. He was looking at himself on a TV screen, hooked up to a video camera in the front window of the shop.

"Was a pity there wasn't one of these down by the State bank," he explained as I approached. "By my reckoning, there won't be a single crime committed in the world, by the year 2020... give or take a bit."

When I looked at him quizzically he simply pointed to the offending video camera and said, "They'll be everywhere. Won't be a Japanese tourist without one. Thousands of them there'll be, all filming each other... on video."

Then we turned east towards the beach, and strolled nonchalantly towards the sea.

"Now what it is I want you to do, Elizabeth, is tell me simply everything you can remember about that morning. And don't leave nothing out. Just as you remember it, okay?"

I nodded and slipped my arm through his. We must have looked a pretty sight as we crossed under the walk-over, from DJ's to Crown Central shopping complex.

"There were lots of people around, but nothing special or unusual up this end of the mall. There was a dog show at the centre stage area over there, as crowds gathered to watch some of them perform.

"I remember a cute little Chihuahua, skinny little thing he was, and a long Dachshund, and a huge Great Dane. Why didn't you ever have a dog, doctor?"

"The only good dog's, a hot dog, child. Now go on, go on. There was a crowd you say."

I ignored his cynical remark, for I knew he loved animals just as much as me.

"Yes. Maybe a hundred or more. It's hard to say really. Dogs were all over the place. There was a trailer shaped like a kennel with 'Pal' advertised on the door. Several handlers dressed in blue, paced the animals up and down, while other dogs performed tricks and went through their routine near the stage. Lots of people stopped to pet the animals. I remember having to move out of the way when the armoured truck came through. It went very slowly and I heard one of the guards shout 'perv' as it passed a particularly busty woman in a bikini top, over there."

"Go on," Fitzgerald prompted, and led me towards the children's play area on the far side of the stage.

"There were heaps in here. Mums and Dads, kids of all shaped and sizes, on the slide or climbing bars. A couple of cute Filipino children were jumping from the wall into the sand, while two boys played with the earth movers. There was a council man over there. You know, the one with the book."

"You mean the ordinance officer. Bob something?"

"Yes, that's the one. He was talking with a man in a dark suit. Had a nice smile. Looked a bit officious."

Fitzgerald nodded and walked on.

"I stopped to look in the discount store, and Pippins had a real nice skirt in their window. It was only..."

"Try and be a little more enthusiastic about the task at hand, and less passionate about some summer fad will you child. I can't stand the torment of all this."

I cleared my throat and walked on.

"Skateboards. Yes definitely skateboards. And there was a boy on a pushie, with surf-board on the back. There were two council workers over there by the garden, and one had a trolley and was emptying a bin. The other must have been one of the gardeners. She was talking..."

"She?" queried Fitzgerald as he dragged me passed Pippins in double time.

"Blonde. Very pretty. Good tan. Long legs."

"Sounds delightful," he hassled. "Now on with it."

"The truck had stopped by the bank and I heard the doors slam as two guards got out. I wasn't far from them at that time. There were some dog handlers over there, and another council man in a green jacket, wide brimmed hat and yellow band, who leaned against the IMB wall.

"The next thing I knew, the child crossed in front of me and the nice guard..."

"Standerton."

"Mmmm." I paused, though I didn't know his name. "Can't really remember anything other than that.

Fitzgerald looked puzzled as he looked up and down the mall, both sides of the street.

Finally he said, "It must be at least a hundred yards to the road from here. Witnesses have said there were three men. One went down the road and turned left at the ANZ Bank. One went through the IMB arcade, and disappeared out the back entrance, somewhere into Market Street. While the third crossed the mall and went down Pigalle Alley."

"And what's wrong with that?" I asked innocently.

The doctor gave a half smile and said,

"None of them had the child."[/hidepost]

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