23
Black Snake
AS USUAL THE Albury was in full swing. They were blasting out ‘It’s Raining Men’. On the stage three of the boys were wearing knee-high boots and not much else, and the audience was cheering and singing along. Harry watched more of the show before going to Birgitta’s bar.
‘Why don’t you sing along, Handsome?’ said a familiar voice. Harry turned. Otto wasn’t in drag tonight; however, a pink, open-neck silk shirt and a hint of mascara and lipstick showed that he had still taken pains with his appearance.
‘I haven’t got the voice for it, Otto. Sorry.’
‘Bah, you Scandinavians are all alike. Can’t let go until you’ve poured so much booze down you you’re useless for . . . yeah, you know what I mean.’
Harry smiled at the lowered eyelids. ‘Don’t flirt with me, Otto. I’m a lost cause.’
‘Hopeless hetero, eh?’
Harry nodded.
‘Let me buy you a drink anyway, Handsome. What d’you fancy?’ He ordered a grapefruit juice for Harry and a Bloody Mary for himself. They toasted and Otto downed half the cocktail in one go.
‘The only thing that helps with love’s sorrows,’ he said, draining the rest, shivering, ordering another and eyeing Harry. ‘So, you’ve never had sex with a man? Perhaps we’ll have to do something about that one day.’
Harry could feel his earlobes getting hot. How could this gay clown make him, a fully grown man, so embarrassed that he looked like a Brit after six hours on a Spanish beach?
‘Let’s make a tasteless and wonderfully vulgar wager,’ Otto said, his eyes glinting with amusement. ‘I bet one hundred dollars that this soft, slim hand of yours will have felt my vitals before you return to Norway. Do you dare to accept the bet?’
Otto clapped his hands at the sight of Harry’s scarlet face.
‘If you insist on handing out money, fine by me,’ Harry said. ‘But my understanding, Otto, was that you were suffering from love’s sorrows. Shouldn’t you be at home thinking about other things rather than tempting straight men?’ He regretted what he had said at once. He had never liked being teased.
Otto withdrew his hand and shot him a wounded glare.
‘Sorry, I was just blabbing. I didn’t mean it,’ Harry said.
Otto shrugged. ‘Anything new in the murder case?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Harry said, relieved they had changed the subject. ‘Looks as if we may have to search beyond her circle of acquaintances. Did you know her, by the way?’
‘Everyone who hangs out here knew Inger.’
‘Did you ever talk to her?’
‘Well, I suppose I must have exchanged a few words with her. She was a bit complicated for my taste.’
‘Complicated?’
‘She turned the heads of quite a few hetero customers. Dressed provocatively, sent long stares and smiled a bit too long if that could get her extra tips. That kind of thing can be dangerous.’
‘Do you think any of the customers might have . . .?’
‘I just mean you might not have to look too far, Officer.’
‘What are you implying?’
Otto cast his eyes around and finished his drink. ‘I’m all mouth, Handsome.’ He made to go. ‘Now I’ll do what you suggested. Go home and think about other things. Wasn’t that what the doctor prescribed?’
He waved to one of the stole-clad boys behind the bar, who brought him a brown paper bag.
‘Don’t forget the show!’ Otto called over his shoulder as he left.
Harry was sitting on a stool at Birgitta’s bar discreetly watching her work. He followed her quick hands pulling pints, changing money and mixing drinks, the way she moved behind the bar because all the distances were second nature: from the beer tap to the counter to the till. He saw her hair slide in front of her face, the quick flick to remove it and her occasional gaze across the customers to spot new orders – and Harry.
The freckled face lit up, and he felt his heart throbbing in his chest, heavy, wonderful.
‘Friend of Andrew’s came in a while ago,’ she said, walking over to Harry. ‘He visited him in hospital and wanted to say hello. He asked for you. Think he’s still sitting here somewhere. Yes, there he is.’
She pointed to a table and Harry recognised the elegant black man at once. It was Toowoomba, the boxer. He went over to his table.
‘Am I disturbing you?’ he asked, and was met with a broad smile.
‘Not at all. Sit down. I was sitting here to see if an old mate of mine would show up.’
Harry sat down.
Robin ‘The Murri’ Toowoomba continued to smile. For some reason one of those embarrassing pauses sprang up that no one admits is embarrassing, but which actually is.