Free Les Norton and the Case of the Talking Pie Crust by Robert G. Barrett

a book or some CDs and it was always a good perv. He stepped through the school gate and joined the throng meandering past stalls selling designer and recycled clothes, paintings, bric-a-brac, body oils, sunglasses, all types of jewellery, Tibetan prayer flags, Laotian fisherman’s pants, miniature musical instruments, hip flasks, and T-shirts with anyone on the front from Che Guevara to the Three Stooges. Or cryptic messages such as VOTE PEDRO or EVERYTHING BEGINS WITH E. Next to a tent offering Thai massage, Les stopped at a stall selling badges and buttons. A yellow one saying I’M NOT REAL SMART BUT I CAN LIFT HEAVY THINGS caught his eye. Just what I need for work, smiled Les. He paid the bloke and put it in his pocket.
    Les drifted up to the stalls at the back selling secondhand goods. He found umbrellas, shoes, toys, kettles, toasters, rolling pins and an assortment of junk you’d probably get cheaper in an op shop. There were backpacks and handbags. But the only green bag was an old vinyl thing with a loose clasp. He checked the stalls thoroughly then looked for the woman that did tarot readings.
    Les found her sitting in a small clearing under a tree at a fold-up table covered by a blue cloth. She had a friendly, studious face and straight brown hair, and had on a black top under a loose-fitting blue shirt. A pair of glasses sat halfway down her nose and a gemstone necklace rested across her top. She was on her own, idly shuffling a well-worn set of tarot cards. Les caught her eye and walked up to the empty chair in front of her.
    ‘G’day,’ said Les. ‘All right if I sit down?’
    ‘Please do,’ offered the woman.
    Les sat down and shuffled the chair a little closer to the table. ‘My name’s Les.’
    ‘Hello, Les. I’m Rose,’ smiled the woman.
    Les waited a moment. ‘What do you know about a green bag, Rose?’
    The woman’s smile disappeared and she tilted her head up to fix Les through her glasses. ‘What?’
    ‘A green bag with a black eagle on the side. I was told you might know something about it.’
    Rose looked at Les as if he’d just walked into her house and across her carpet with dog shit all over his shoes. ‘Are you all right?’ she said.
    ‘Yeah. I’m fine,’ replied Les.
    ‘Are you a policeman?’
    Les shook his head. ‘No. Not at all.’
    ‘Do you work with my son at the brewery?’
    ‘No. I…work at the Cross.’
    ‘Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The woman picked up a brown tapestry bag from near her feet and put it on the table. ‘There. That’s my bag,’ she said, then pointed to the cards and the sign above her saying TAROT READINGS. ‘And do I look like I deal in bags? she asked.
    Les felt like a complete idiot. ‘I’m really sorry, Rose,’ he blurted. ‘I’ve…I’ve got you mixed up with someone else.’ Les got up to leave, then hesitated. ‘Hey, while I’m here. Why don’t you give me a tarot reading?’
    ‘I charge fifteen dollars,’ said the woman, placing her bag back at her feet. ‘Have you got any money—Les, is it?’
    ‘That’s right,’ nodded Les. ‘Yeah I got money, Rose. Heaps.’ Les pulled a healthy roll of fifties and twenties out of his pocket. ‘Do you want me to pay you now?’
    ‘No. That’s all right,’ said Rose. She pushed the cards across to Norton. ‘Okay, Les. Shuffle the cards.’
    ‘Righto.’
    Automatically, Les shuffled the cards like they did at work. He flicked them around, cut them several times and handed them back to Rose.
    ‘I see you’ve done that before, Les,’ smiled Rose. She had a soothing manner and Les began to feel less uncomfortable as she took the cards.
    ‘Yeah. I play a bit of manilla at a friend’s house,’ he replied.
    ‘All right, Les,’ said Rose. ‘We’ll just do a six card read. Pick six cards.’ Carefully Les did what he was told. ‘Now put them down on the table like a cross.’ With Rose directing him, Les again did what he was told. ‘How long