you would be way out of your depth, there are way too many considerations in the dating game thing, you know.”
Georgie G pushed back from the steering wheel until he was casually leaning back in his seat. With one hand on the wheel, he pushed his sunglasses down his nose with the other, and peered over the frame. “Don’t worry about me and the laaaadddddies, boss. It is the one activity in life where I know exactly what to do first time, every time.”
Randall laughed out lo ud. “Of course you do, Georgie, of course you do.”
* * *
Farley’s was a large popular café on a main street at Five dock that sold good strong coffee and large meals. The team sat in the same private corner of the café, out of hearing from other patrons.
Randall took his usual seat at the end of the table, facing the entry door. This was a force of habit. He always had to be facing the door. He could only put it down to watching too many westerns where cowboys would be shot in the back as the bandit entered the swinging double saloon doors. At least this way he could see the bandit coming. From his position he surveyed the café.
Young couple to the left of the entry door, his head is down and she is pointing at him. They are fighting. No ring on her finger, so they’re not married. She is picking up his mobile and pointing at the screen. I think he has been up to no good. Old man to the right of the door, reading the paper, wearing a lot of gold around his neck and bracelet on his right wrist. He also has large gold rings. Looks about seventy years old, possibly Italian. His hair is obviously dyed dark as his eyebrows are still grey. He is glancing out into the street. He is waiting for someone. Probably a younger woman… bingo here she comes. She has been shopping with three bags full. Who says you can’t buy youth. Over next to the opposing window, two suits having coffee, talking shop, just picking up on English accents, probably in sales. Poms can sell ice to the Eskimos. One getting up, kisses the other on the mouth. Shit, didn’t see that coming. Old lady sitting alone near the serving counter, well-dressed, a lot of makeup. Her fingers are yellow and she has deep creases around her mouth. She smokes heavily, probably her whole life. She is coughing, a chesty rattling cough. Shit, that doesn’t sound good. Bulge in her handbag, I can just see the neck of a spirit bottle. So she likes a tipple too. She looks lonely. At her age I guess it is whatever gets you through.
To Randall’s immediate left sat Hobbs, and next to him, Mounier Elsamad, better known as The Sheik. The Sheik was a very confident, affable man. Born in Australia of Lebanese parentage, he stood about five feet eleven tall with a solid build, huge hands and a welcoming smile. He was a very thorough investigator and an excellent communicator. The Sheik was a bit of an entrepreneur, owning a security business on the side, which had a number of shopping centres, a private hospital and a crematorium as clients. All the detectives in the office had at one stage helped him out with his business, either working for him as a security officer or managing it when he was away. When anyone in the office was a little short on cash The Sheik would offer them shifts to help them out.
On Randall’s right sat Georgie G the indecisive one, and next to him Leanne Browne. Browne was spelt with an “e” and she made sure everyone knew it. Leanne was the only female in the office, came from a forensic background, and was a very well-respected member of the team. Leanne stood about five feet six tall, had an athletic build with shoulder-length dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She had applied on many occasions for a position within the detectives’ office, however, had been overlooked due to inexperience. This all changed during a very challenging shift when she was in uniform working in general duties.
Leanne had been working with another female officer on the general duties
Georgie G pushed back from the steering wheel until he was casually leaning back in his seat. With one hand on the wheel, he pushed his sunglasses down his nose with the other, and peered over the frame. “Don’t worry about me and the laaaadddddies, boss. It is the one activity in life where I know exactly what to do first time, every time.”
Randall laughed out lo ud. “Of course you do, Georgie, of course you do.”
* * *
Farley’s was a large popular café on a main street at Five dock that sold good strong coffee and large meals. The team sat in the same private corner of the café, out of hearing from other patrons.
Randall took his usual seat at the end of the table, facing the entry door. This was a force of habit. He always had to be facing the door. He could only put it down to watching too many westerns where cowboys would be shot in the back as the bandit entered the swinging double saloon doors. At least this way he could see the bandit coming. From his position he surveyed the café.
Young couple to the left of the entry door, his head is down and she is pointing at him. They are fighting. No ring on her finger, so they’re not married. She is picking up his mobile and pointing at the screen. I think he has been up to no good. Old man to the right of the door, reading the paper, wearing a lot of gold around his neck and bracelet on his right wrist. He also has large gold rings. Looks about seventy years old, possibly Italian. His hair is obviously dyed dark as his eyebrows are still grey. He is glancing out into the street. He is waiting for someone. Probably a younger woman… bingo here she comes. She has been shopping with three bags full. Who says you can’t buy youth. Over next to the opposing window, two suits having coffee, talking shop, just picking up on English accents, probably in sales. Poms can sell ice to the Eskimos. One getting up, kisses the other on the mouth. Shit, didn’t see that coming. Old lady sitting alone near the serving counter, well-dressed, a lot of makeup. Her fingers are yellow and she has deep creases around her mouth. She smokes heavily, probably her whole life. She is coughing, a chesty rattling cough. Shit, that doesn’t sound good. Bulge in her handbag, I can just see the neck of a spirit bottle. So she likes a tipple too. She looks lonely. At her age I guess it is whatever gets you through.
To Randall’s immediate left sat Hobbs, and next to him, Mounier Elsamad, better known as The Sheik. The Sheik was a very confident, affable man. Born in Australia of Lebanese parentage, he stood about five feet eleven tall with a solid build, huge hands and a welcoming smile. He was a very thorough investigator and an excellent communicator. The Sheik was a bit of an entrepreneur, owning a security business on the side, which had a number of shopping centres, a private hospital and a crematorium as clients. All the detectives in the office had at one stage helped him out with his business, either working for him as a security officer or managing it when he was away. When anyone in the office was a little short on cash The Sheik would offer them shifts to help them out.
On Randall’s right sat Georgie G the indecisive one, and next to him Leanne Browne. Browne was spelt with an “e” and she made sure everyone knew it. Leanne was the only female in the office, came from a forensic background, and was a very well-respected member of the team. Leanne stood about five feet six tall, had an athletic build with shoulder-length dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She had applied on many occasions for a position within the detectives’ office, however, had been overlooked due to inexperience. This all changed during a very challenging shift when she was in uniform working in general duties.
Leanne had been working with another female officer on the general duties
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