The Day of the Gecko Read Free Page B

bones in your carpet.’
    â€˜Don’t slag Chez Norton to me, tart. It’s a palace. But I’ll do that for you if you want, Susie, while my place is off tap.’
    Susie looked at Les then gave him a quick cuddle and a peck on the cheek. ‘That’d be great, Les. Thanks a lot.’
    â€˜Any time I can help. You know me.’
    â€˜I sure do.’ Susie winked and raised her bottle. ‘Well, come on, let’s finish these and I’ll show you where I live. I have to start making tracks anyway.’
    â€˜Okey doke.’ They finished their drinks and began walking towards Campbell Parade. Les offered to carry Susie’s hand-weights in his bag. Susie accepted.
    Les lived barely five minutes from the beach and, with parking and all that, it was easier to walk down, and even better if you found someone nice to walk back with. They nattered on about nothing much at first. How Bondi with its myriad trendy restaurants and coffee shops was now the new Hollywood Babylon and everybody you met was either an actor or a writer, or a film producer or a director. Some were. But there was no shortage of wannabes and gunnabes either. They also agreed Bondi was a nice place through the week, but if you were a local you just stayed inside and locked your doors on the weekend. Les and Susie couldn’t split what they liked about the weekend circus the best. All the roid-heads who’d been doing three-tonne bench presses, strutting round in their lycra shorts and cut-away singlets. Or the Western suburbs wogs, in or out of work, screaming around in the gridlock with their car boom-boxes blasting out house music. Or maybe the suits on their Harley-Davidsons. Work in the bank or sell insurance all week, then come Sunday and stick the bandanna and vest on and it’s rolling thunder up and down Campbell Parade. That was in the daytime. At night the complete rats and monsters took over the freak show. Good old Bondi. But it was nice through the week. The sushi and coffee were good and there was always the chance you might get discovered. Shit! Jason Donovan lived there and Kylie Minogue had a boyfriend there. That had to mean something. Les tried to pump Susie for a bit more SP about the boarder incase he should suddenly arrive when Les was there. His name was Ackerly and she didn’t know where he was. He was a student writing a book on a grant. He rang up after two days, but before Susie could understand what he was talking about he hung up again. He’d only been there a couple of months, was very quiet and didn’t say much; just seemed to be thinking all the time. The funny things that had been going on? Well, Susie just had this feeling her unit had been broken into. Nothing was missing. But Susie had this feeling someone had been in the flat. Maybe a perv. And the old Russian couple above her had moved out suddenly. It was only temporary she’d found out, but they both seemed agitated when they left as if they didn’t want to go. Another two Russians had moved into their unit. A young bloke and an older one. The older one was always friendly and sort of joking, but there was something off-putting, even slightly sinister about them. Between them and all the other comings and goings and carryings-on around the units, Susie was grateful Les would be there while she was away.
    The unit was about two hundred metres on the left-hand side of Hall Street, just past all the shops at Six Ways and pretty much like Susie said: just round the comer from Norton’s house. Twelve brown brick units, trimmed with white concrete, faced the street and each unit had two cream-coloured brick sundecks; a long narrow one and a shorter, deeper one. Most sundecks were filled with pot plants and vines and there was a well-kept garden and lawn out the front. A driveway ran down the left to the parking area and a row of poplars separated Susie’s units from a bigger blocknext door. Susie’s unit