Between the Devlin and the Deep Blue Seas by Robert G. Barrett Page A

along with some paint tins and dried-up brushes. A battered empty suitcase and a couple of empty overnight bags sat in one comer near a yard broom, a rake, a mop and bucket and an old push mower. Up against a wall was Jimmy the bikie, or late bikie’s motorbike. Les was expecting a Harley Davidson or a BMW; instead he was surprised to find a rusting old BSA Bantam resting on its forks, the wheels and flat tyres behind it. Christ, thought Les, when was the last time I saw one of those? Old Tom, the postman back in Dirranbandi, that’s right, he used to get round on one. Wonder what a big, bad Sydney bikie was doing with an old BSA Bantam? Norton ran his hand over the handle bars and empty saddlebag. Probably restoring it. He shook his head. The remains of the gutted motorbike seem to fit in perfectly with the whole cheerless scene. Les switched off the light and left.
    Well, thought Les, standing out in the light of the foyer, while I’m on the subject of bikes and bikies I may as well check out whatever’s left in the alleged late Jimmy baby’s flat. There was still no one around as Les trotted up the stairs, but he thought he could hear a radio playing in flat four.
    The two bedroom flat was a corridor as you walked in with a bedroom on the left then the bathroom, the lounge room, another bedroom off it and the kitchen adjacent.
    Norton didn’t know what to expect when he stepped into flat five but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting what he found. It was complete chaos. The flat had been tippedupside down and absolutely wrecked. It looked like one of those scenes in a movie where the drug squad hits a place and gives it a thorough going over, except flat five had been methodically almost destroyed. It didn’t appear as if there’d been a great deal of furniture in the lounge in the first place, but what was there, was smashed and splintered. Posters had been ripped from the walls, the carpet was torn up and even the cheap curtains had been yanked down. Then Les noticed the dried blood spattered across the white walls of the lounge room. It was the same in the kitchen. Every cupboard and drawer had been tipped out, ransacked and smashed. Cutlery, plates and what few pots and pans there were were strewn all over the floor and even the fridge and stove had been ripped apart with rotting, mouldy food and water from the ice-cube trays spread amongst the debris strewn all over the kitchen floor.
    â€˜Jesus bloody Christ!’exclaimed Les. ‘What the fuckin’ hell?’ He’d never seen anything like it.
    Same in both bedrooms; there was more blood on the walls showing up as rusty, dark stains on the old brown carpet. The wardrobes were smashed and even the mirrors had been shattered and tom off their hinges. Someone had smashed up the beds then taken to the mattresses with a knife, spreading kapok and springs amongst whatever already littered the floor. A dressing table in the front room looked as if some maniac had attacked it with an axe.
    â€˜Bloody hell!’ muttered Les.
    The bathroom was the same only they’d torn apart the sink and ripped down the medicine chest above. They’d even kicked in the sides of the bath and torn out the shower fittings. Worst of all was the amount of congealed, browning blood all over the bath. An attempt had been made to wash some away but what was left showed the sheer ferocity of the attackers.
    â€˜Shit!’ said Les.
    Norton walked slowly through the carnage double blinking. He’d seen some sights in his time, but nothingquite like this. And to think he owned it. It was fairly obvious what had happened though. Jimmy’s bikie pals had come around looking for something — more than likely drugs. They’d started to bash some information out of the hapless Jimmy and, going by the amount of blood in the bathroom, they’d overdone it and killed him and then taken the body away, just like old Hoppy had