Free Sharp Turn by Marianne Delacourt Page A

at the back. The track was on the east side of the pits, and on the west side was Bron’s Service Centre, a workshop that ran all year round servicing cars and bikes and no doubt supplying suddenly-needed parts. I did a walk around the entire pit area and hung over the railing at the finish line, drinking in the smell of burnt fuel as several bikes buzzed past. Then I wandered up to the information booth and asked where I’d find the security guard.
    The girl in the booth tucked the gum in one side of her mouth and said, ‘He should be at the gate. He must have gone to the office. You in Jim’s van?’ She pointed to the visitors’ car park.
    ‘Yeah. Just covering for him until his back is better.’
    ‘Lemme give you my order now then. Jim knows I can’t leave the booth for too long so he always has it ready for me.’
    ‘Sure. You been working here a while?’ I asked casually.
    ‘Five years. Best job I’ve ever had. Booth’s air-conditioned and I’m allowed to read magazines when it’s quiet.’ She scribbled something on a post-it note and slid it across the counter.
    ‘Chicken and lettuce on a white poppy-seed roll, no butter. Can of Diet Coke. Strawberry muffin. For Sharee,’ I read aloud.
    ‘That’s me.’ She gave me a white-toothed smile and jangled her earrings, which were two cute black and white sheep with goggly eyes.
    ‘I’m Tara,’ I said. ‘What time do you want your order?’
    ‘Eleven forty-five, please. I like to get in before the wrenches. You won’t have to worry about Team Chesley though. They bring their own caterer.’ She flicked the tip of her nose and lifted it in the air.
    ‘Guess you know everybody here?’
    ‘Yeah,’ she said brightly. ‘That’s part of my job.’
    ‘Great.’ I smiled back just as brightly. ‘See you soon.’
    I made a mental note to tell Cass to put extra chicken in Sharee’s roll. She’d likely be a great source of information.
    Cass! I hurried back to the van, where I found my homeless teenager in a heated discussion with the security guard.
    ‘You have to move now,’ the guard was saying.
    Cass’s face was set in obstinate mode and her aura was turning a dense brown.
    ‘What’s the problem?’ I asked, turning my smile wattage up a notch.
    The security guard and his milky red aura shrank a bit at the sight of me. Some people reacted like that to my size and my direct manner.
    ‘I was just looking for you to find out where I should park,’ I added apologetically.
    ‘Refreshments have a designated area and a dedicated power outlet,’ he said.
    ‘Thanks . . . errr . . . ?’
    ‘Jase.’ He proffered his hand in a friendlier manner. ‘Your spot’s right over there, alongside the toilet block.’
    Next to the loo? Choice! ‘Okay.’
    ‘I’ll follow you up there to make sure you settle in,’ he said.
    I transcribed this as to keep an eye on you . ‘Great.’
    ‘So where’s Jim?’ he asked.
    ‘He’s got a bad back,’ I answered, climbing into the driver’s seat. ‘Cass!’
    But she’d walked off and was talking to a young guy in overalls.
    With Jase leading the van as if it were a hearse and he was a funeral director, I drove to my allocated spot. By the time I’d parked and plugged into the power to Jase’s arm-pointing satisfaction, and written down his special order, most of the people in the pits area had come out to watch and smirk. When Cass caught up with me, my cheeks were flaming hot with annoyance.
    She gave me a hooded-eyed look. ‘I’ve been investigating like you said to. The guy I was talking to told me who’s racing and a bit about them.’
    My temper cooled a little. ‘He did?’
    ‘Yeah. Then he asked me out.’ She seemed surprised.
    ‘What did you learn?’
    ‘He works for the track owner. ’Parently there’re four local teams up here practising today – Riley, Moto-Sane, Bennett and Chesley. Like you said, there’s some big race coming up on Sunday that they all want to win.’
    ‘That’s