Chapter 2

Tony Leonardo discovered that he had been robbed of two point seven million dollars by Mike Harris at ten o'clock on the 15th July; by then Mike Harris, in the guise of his alter ego, Michele Nylons, was sleeping in a cheap motel a few hundred kilometres away, just over the Victorian border.

As soon as he discovered the money was missing from his safe Tony knew that Mike had stolen it. He didn't know whether he was more pissed off with Mike for stealing the money or for stealing his books. He knew that he couldn't involve any of his own crew or most of his legit contacts in the search for Mike Harris. His crew and the other hierarchy of his crime family were not aware that he was skimming from their casinos. He usually only skimmed a few hundred thousand dollars each month and by the time the money was laundered the amount he actually pocketed was considerably diminished.

Two point seven million dollars!!! That cocksucker must have waited until Tony had enough money hidden in his safe to make it worthwhile stealing. Mike had to know that Tony would kick over every rock in the country to find him. And also the cunt had taken the books! What possible use could Mike have for them except as a bargaining tool?

Tony was not surprised when he called Mike's home and mobile phones and neither one was answered. He flicked through his rolodex until he found the name he was looking for: Steve Marshall.

Steve Marshall was a finder; if you wanted someone found anywhere in Australia, Steve Marshall was your guy. Steve had connections in business, law enforcement, state and federal government and throughout the underworld. Steve would find anyone; for a price.

There was the famous story about a guy who had ripped off his boss and then fled interstate. He'd changed his name, had plastic surgery and acquired new, supposedly untraceable, identity documents. Steve had chased the guy across every state in the country and eventually found him working on a trawler out of Darwin. At the behest of his employer Steve had tortured the guy for two days until he gave up the location of the money he had stolen and the name of an accomplice who was still working for the crime boss. The guy was never seen again.

Tony called Steve Marshall and had him come to his office just before lunch. He gave him all of the information he had on Mike Harris but did not tell him why he wanted him found. Steve was briefed to find Mike at any cost and then to call Tony for further instructions. Steve spent an hour in Tony's office using the phones and the internet getting Mike Harris' description and personal details out to all of his contacts. Tony went out and returned with one hundred thousand dollars in cash and handed it to Steve.

"This is your only job until that fucker's found ok?" Tony said as he handed the cash to Steve.

"That's a lot of cash Tony," Steve responded, putting the wad of money into his briefcase.

"And I want my fucking money's worth. You find that cunt and you tell me where he is!" Tony said; his voice as hard as cold steel.

Steve drove to Mike's townhouse and knocked on the door not expecting an answer and neither did he get one. He looked around and saw Mike's shitty Corolla parked at the kerb and knocked at the door again. Steve checked that the street was clear and jimmied the cheap lock on the front door and stepped inside closing the door behind him. The place even felt abandoned.

"Mike? Mike? Are you home?" he called as he walked through the small townhouse.

When he was sure that the house was vacant he began a systematic search. There was nothing of interest in the lounge or the kitchen. There was no personal mail; Mike had taken it with him or he didn't get any. Steve knew from the information that he already had that Mike was an orphan and pretty much a loner. The small second bedroom was used as a study and contained all of Mike's personal paperwork and a bunch of bills. He scanned through the documents but there was nothing there to help him; still, he put them in his briefcase for later review. He fired up the computer and the cursor flashed and then an alert came up on the screen that said 'insert system disk'. The hard drive had been wiped clean or formatted.

He looked for a rolodex or an address book but couldn't find one in the desk. He searched the bedroom and was surprised to find what appeared to be most of Mike's clothes still hanging in the wardrobe and neatly folded in the drawers. This was very suspicious; Mike had left his car and all of his personal possessions at the house. Whatever Mike had done to Tony, it required that he run away as fast as he could.

Steve searched the rest of the bedroom and then something in the waste bin caught his eye. He picked up the crumpled cardboard and cellophane packaging from a pair of Kaiser, flesh-toned, ultra-sheer, sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose. Hmmm; maybe Mike had a girlfriend or a female accomplice? He checked around the bedroom carefully but found no other female clothing. He rechecked the dresser and noted that two of the drawers were empty. Had Mike taken some clothing from the drawers or had his girlfriend been using those drawers and cleaned them with the rest her belongings before her and Mike took off?

But why wouldn't Mike take his belongings too? It was quite a puzzle; but Steve knew from years of experience that when people went into hiding that they often did some strange things. Maybe Mike thought he needed to ditch all of his clothes? He had probably taken just enough clothing with him to get far enough away so that he could replace his entire wardrobe. A smart move; a good means of disguise is to completely change your dress style.

As he closed the top drawer of the dresser something caught Steve's eye. A fine layer of dust sparkled on the surface of the dresser. He wiped at it with a finger and looked at the fine, flesh toned dust on his fingertip. He bought it to his nose and smelt it and then cautiously dabbed it on the tip of tongue. Cosmetic face powder!

So Mike did have a woman here before he left! The question was; was she still with him?

Steve got on his cell and called a guy who specialised in rebuilding computers.

"Get your arse over to the address I'm about to text to you. I want everything you can get off the PC!" he said into the phone and then text the address of Mike's townhouse.

He left the townhouse by the front door and wandered down to Mike's Corolla. There was nothing in it except the registration papers. As he closed the door to the car he saw a curtain move in the window of a house across the street. God he loved nosey neighbours! He walked over to the house and knocked on the door. He produced a fake police ID and held it up when a little old lady answered the door.

"Hello; I'm Detective Constable Ward and I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me?"

"Of course dear; come in," the old lady said.

The old lady had to be in her seventies and the place smelled of boiled cabbage and cat piss. He sat down on an overstuffed sofa, declining the obligatory cup of tea and asked her a series of questions about Mike Harris. Mike was a loner who didn't mingle with the neighbours she explained; she didn't have much to do with him but she thought it strange that Mike had started to park his Corolla outside his house at the curb. Mike used to always drive his car into the attached garage and park the Corolla there overnight she said.

"But I suppose he had to let his new lady-friend park in his garage?" she said; a hint of cynicism in her tone.

"He had a lady-friend there last night?" Steve asked.

"I've never seen her before and I didn't see her go into the house; but she left last night about midnight."

"You've never seen her before hey? Can you describe what she looked like?" Steve asked.

"Big girl, brown shoulder-length hair, wearing far too much makeup," the old spinster said disapprovingly.

"I only got a glimpse of her as she drove past the streetlight," she finished.

"And the car?" Steve asked.

"Big blue or black Ford; not new but it looked alright I suppose. Had Queensland plates." She responded.

Steve asked her a few more questions about Mike but the old lady hadn't seen him for a few days and he wasn't in the car that the woman was driving last night as far as she could tell. The woman dribbled on about how good her eyesight was for her age and how she kept an eye on the neighbourhood because you never knew what might happen. God he loved Nosey neighbours!

The old bag didn't even ask why Steve was asking questions about Mike until he got up to leave.

"Oh he's been reported missing; if you do see him again call this number," Steve said, handing her a plain business card with nothing printed on it except a mobile phone number.

Steve sat in his own car and worked the phone for a while getting the information about the woman and her car out to his contacts. He started up his car and headed home to pick up a suitcase that he kept packed at all times; he would be on the road for a while he thought.

So? What was the story with the woman? There was no evidence of Mike having a girlfriend but he pretty much kept to himself so who knew what the fuck he got up to? Had Mike left in the woman's car, crouched down below the car windows, unseen by the neighbour? Had they split up and gone their separate ways? Was the woman an accomplice or an innocent girlfriend?

He called Tony and gave him the update; Tony had no idea who the woman might be but if she was with Mike last night then he wanted her found. Steve picked up his suitcase and loaded it into the boot of his car when his cell rang. A contact in the federal police told him about a cop who was going around bragging that he had fucked an attractive mature woman last night who was driving a blue Ford Falcon with Queensland plates. The cop hadn't taken her name or the registration number because the woman had offered to shag him if he didn't give her a speeding ticket. It sounded like bullshit, but Steve decided to investigate it.

Steve found the cop at a pub in Fyshwick and after introducing himself and sliding a fat envelope under the table the cop told him everything that had happened last night at the rest stop car park. The cop embellished the story a little, claiming to have fucked the woman, when in fact he had only fondled and kissed her for a while before coming over her legs. The cop didn't think the embellishment mattered and he wanted everyone to think he was some kind of stud. Steve got a good description of the woman; well built brunette, heavy makeup, business suit, and a sensual smoky voice.

As Steve barrelled down the Federal highway he wondered if the cop was telling the truth. Cops bullshitted each other all the time, but he figured the cop was smart enough to realise that Steve would be back for more than just his money back if found out that the cop had lied. Steve pulled into the rest stop and parked close to the spot where the cop had described the incident with the woman had taken place.

He looked around the rest stop; a family of five was sitting at a wooden bench eating sandwiches and drinking soft drinks; they paid him no attention at all. Steve wandered around a bit and then he spotted something contrasting with the black tar of the car park surface. He looked back at the family and seeing they were taking no notice he walked over and picked up the scrap of material. It was a pair of pantyhose. He looked at the word 'Kaiser' embossed in the material at the top of the waist. Hmmm; Kaiser, flesh-toned, ultra-sheer, sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose. Could it be a coincidence?

A feint odour of perfume clung to the flimsy garment and he put it to his nose and inhaled. He smelt Michele's Poison perfume overlying another musty odour; it took him only a fraction of a second for his brain to recognise the musty odour of stale semen.

"Fuck!!!"

He threw the garment back on the blacktop and noticed the silvery trials of what had to be semen contrasting against the skin-toned nylon. The dirty bitch had used her pantyhose to clean out her cunt after the cop had fucked her! The cop was telling the truth. He spotted the scrunched up handkerchief a little further away; the cop had said he's used it clean himself after fucking the woman and then thrown it out the window. The cop's story rang true!

He looked around a little longer and found two lipstick stained cigarette butts. The cop had said her car smelt heavily of cigarette smoke.

He was about to leave when on a whim he took out his own handkerchief and gathered up the pantyhose, wrapped them in his hanky and stuffed them in his pocket.

He got back on the Federal highway and continued driving out of the city wondering where the woman was going. His phone rang a few minutes later and he took a message from one of his contacts who had rung around all of the hotels and motels within a few hundred kilometres of Canberra. An attractive well built blonde woman driving a blue Ford Falcon had checked into a cheap motel just over the Victorian border. She was definitely a blonde the guy said; but women where known to wear wigs right? He did a U turn and stepped on the gas pulling up the coordinates of the Best Western Motel in Wodonga on his car's GPS navigation system. Hopefully the girl would lead him to Mike.

Michele's sleep was deep but disturbed. Images of the policeman straddling her and humping her legs kept intruding into her dreams. When she woke up at noon she was well rested but troubled. She sported a painful erection that tented her satin panties and the front of her teddy. She rationalised that her erection was in response to needing to piss urgently and not a physical response to the dreams of being dry humped by the policeman. Before going to bed she had cleaned off her makeup and had worn only her panties and a satin teddy to bed.

Michele got out of bed and removed her teddy and panties and as she was now naked and not wearing a wig or makeup, in her subconscious she snapped from being Michele to Mike.

Mike got into the shower running it as hot as he could stand it, he shaved his face and ran the razor over any body hair he found and brushed his teeth. He recalled arriving at the Best Western Motel at Wodonga just after 4:00am, exhausted after covering the nearly 400 kilometres from Canberra in just over four hours.

At the motel reception desk Michele had kept a vice-like grip on her briefcase, never letting it go, even when she filled in the registration form with fictitious personal details. The clerk offered to assist her and he was quickly rebuked.

"Here Ma'am; just let me move that briefcase out of the way for you," he offered.

"No! Leave it! It's ok! Michele exclaimed.

The night clerk had blatantly stared at her; his eyes roaming over her body. Michele was in no mood to take any shit after the long drive. The clerk tried to give her a hard time about not having a credit card but when she paid in cash for two night's accommodation he shut up. She could feel his eyes staring at her legs and buttocks as she walked away from the reception desk. What she didn't see as she left the reception area was the clerk picking up the phone and dialling a number.

"Yeah; got a good one; she's hanging onto her briefcase like it's full of gold or something dude!" the young night clerk whispered into the phone.

"Yeah; same deal as last time I get half of the take. She's in her forties I reckon, nice arse and legs. I'll let you know when she leaves the room and I'll leave you a key at the usual place."

"See ya dude," the clerk replaced the receiver; an evil smirk on his face.

Mike unpacked his suitcases and laid out his cosmetics under the bathroom mirror. As he applied his makeup in his subconscious he reverted back to the persona of Michele. Michele applied her makeup with her usual care, applying lashings of eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara and lipstick and rouging her cheeks. She didn't intend to leave the motel until the next day when she would head back north into New South Wales, taking a circuitous route to Sydney. She decided to dress a little more casual today but maintained her self imposed dress code of not wearing pant-suits or house dresses, and always wearing hosiery.

She selected a white rayon Carla Zampatti A-line skirt with side kick pleats and a blue silk blouse. Taupe pantyhose and white courts completed the ensemble. She selected a blonde bob and fitted it on her head and then fitted her breastforms and used the medical adhesive to hide her penis under her crotch. She pulled on a pink satin brassiere and matching full cut panties. The skirt had a liner so she did not need a slip. She buttoned the blouse and stepped into the skirt, zipping up the side seam. The hem of the skirt rested about six inches above her knees. She stepped into the white; three-inch heeled court shoes and checked herself in the mirror. Perfect! She reached for the phone and asked for room service.

Michele peeked out of the drawn curtains into the winter gloom and suddenly she balked. She had parked the big blue Falcon right outside her room. She was so tired last night that she hadn't thought too much about it; but she decided that she must move the car and change the plates. It was unlikely that anyone had seen the car leave her house last night but she was taking no chances. She peeked outside, saw the coast was clear, walked to her car and drove it around to the car park at rear of the motel where it could not be seen from the road.

There was no one else in the car park so she quickly changed the plates with a set of stolen New South Wales number plates. The plates would be less noticeable here on the NSW border than the stolen Queensland plates that she had used to make her getaway. She looked around to make sure there was still no one around. The coast was still clear and then she noticed a rear entry door from the car park into the motel. There was a sign on the door: 'Motel Guests Only - Door Closes at 10:00PM Sharp'. She opened the door and went back to her room and washed her hands, drying them just as room service arrived with her lunch.

The young night clerk was sitting in his car across the road from the motel eating a greasy hamburger and drinking a Coke. He was tired and was just about to give up his surveillance when an attractive well built blonde woman wearing a blue blouse and a nice white skirt that showed some leg left the hotel room that he had earlier assigned to the sexy brunette. He looked at her intently as she strode towards the blue Falcon and smiled to himself.

It was the same woman! She was wearing a blonde wig. Interesting! Why would a mature, well dressed woman check into a motel in the early hours of the morning and refuse to let go of her briefcase while she was checking in and then appear the next day in disguise? It had to be drugs! He bet she was here to do a drug deal and that the briefcase was full of cash or drugs! But she wasn't carrying the briefcase now and she was getting into her car. Fuck!!!

He punched up a number in his mobile phone which was answered on the second ring.

"Dude?"

"We're on dude; the bitch just left her room and drove away. She's in number 113; don't forget, just get the briefcase and get the fuck out, I don't know how long she'll be gone," the clerk said into the phone.

"Duuuude," his accomplice answered and the broke connection.

The night clerk waited fifteen minutes until he saw his accomplice walk around the corner and approach the motel. The accomplice stopped next to a rock wall near the entrance of motel and pretended to tie his shoelace. He removed a loose rock from the wall and took the duplicate key to room 113 which had been hidden there.

"Duuuude!!!" he smiled to himself.

After a light meal and a cigarette, Michele remained in her motel room sitting in a comfortable lounge chair with the curtains and blinds pulled tightly shut and tried to watch TV. There would definitely be no media coverage of the robbery, but Tony might get his media contacts to do a missing persons story on the disappearance of Mike Harris. She found nothing on the news channels but that did nothing to allay her fears. She knew that Tony would have people out looking for Mike Harris. She turned off the TV and was dozing in the chair when she heard the rattle of the doorknob.