The Big Whatever Read Online Free Page A

regarded as a slime and rip-off merchant. In front of him on the table were blocks of hash wrapped in cellophane, each about the size of a half-pound pack of butter, and a cutting board, a knife, a set of chemist’s scales. Somebody was noisily taking a leak in the toilet. Drew, who didn’t like me (and who, for the record, I didn’t like in return), glanced my way then back to the scales, on which sat a big cube of hash.
    Rasputin was over at the kitchen bench rolling a joint. “I said to wait outside, man.” He started walking towards me, shepherding me out. “I’ll bring a smoke out to you.”
    At that point the back door opened and Cathy walked into the kitchen holding my Smith and Wesson.
    Okay, you’re wondering why would mellow cat Mel Parker own a fucking roscoe? Well that’s just how it is, all right? I’ve never hurt anyone with it, not really, but it’s helped me out of more than a couple of tight corners.
    So there was Cathy, holding my pistol. As steady as you like, too. Of all the things I was thinking right then, the main one was that she was fucking magnificent.
    The room became very still, everyone staring at Cathy. She pointed the gun at Rasputin and then at Drew. She said to me, “The dope any good?”
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I said to her.
    She ignored me. To Rasputin she said, “Light that joint and give it to me.”
    He did. She inhaled deeply, still holding the gun in her right hand. She kept the smoke down for a good while, let it out slowly, took another quick toke and passed it to me.
    â€œMy compliments to the cook. Get it, Mel, and let’s go.”
    â€œWhat?” I took a toke and passed it to Alex.
    Johnny Malone came out of the toilet buttoning his fly. He looked at Cathy, the gun, the dope, then at me, and stopped, his face expressionless.
    The bikey came in from the lounge room, clocked the crazy tableau and said, “The fuck’s this?”
    Drew stood up from the table, took a step towards Cathy. She lifted the gun at him, gave it a shake. He grinned and took another step. She shot him in the middle of the chest. He fell like a sack of cabbages, a hundred and ten percent dead.
    She pointed the gun at Rasputin, then the bikey. The surfie had seen enough already. The others piled into the kitchen, and stopped. Cathy stood there holding the gun like nothing much had happened.
    â€œWe’re taking the dope,” she said. “We’ll leave one block. You can divide it up among yourselves. Gratis. You can tell your people we took it all, if that helps.” She pointed at the body on the floor. “Mel, check his pockets.”
    There were three fat rolls of twenties in his kick. Cathy motioned for me to put them on the table. “A quick whip-round now, boys,” she said, pointing the gun from one to the other. They slowly emptied their pockets. Every man present had been set on scoring, so the money pile was not inconsequential.
    The Greek said, “Jesus fucking shit! ” He looked at me and shook his head. “Oh no.” He flopped onto a kitchen chair. “This is so heavy.”
    With her free hand Cathy separated a roll of twenties from the money pile and put the rest in one of the bags of dope. She pushed the role of twenties towards the stunned dope fiends.
    â€œTell whoever you’re scoring for that you got ripped. You needn’t tell them about this—” she nudged the roll of twenties with the gun barrel.
    She turned to Johnny. “I’m sorry.” Back to the openmouthed drug dealers. “As for this one” – she nodded at Drew’s corpse – “I’m sorry, okay? But, you know? Anyway I’ll leave you lot to deal with it. Call the cops if you think you can handle it. Or just take care of it your own way.”
    She looked at me, made the “let’s go” sign, and backed towards the door she’d come through. I