Deal Me Out

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When Terry Reeves of Bargain Renta Car rang me, I bought at first that he was up to his old trick-trying to Hog off an exmember of his fleet on me. Over the years he’d offered me Commodores, Peugeots, even an ‘84 Falcon, but I’d remained true to my Falcon which had been born about a decade earlier.

‘Terry,’ I said, ‘you’re wasting your time, I’m going to be buried in that car.’

‘You probably will be, Cliff. But this is a business call.’

‘You mean you’re going to give me money, not take money off me?’

‘I mean I want you to earn the money by investigating something. That’s what you do, isn’t it-investigate?’

‘Yeah. Lately I’ve done more money minding and debugging than investigating, but I can still remember how it’s done.’

‘De-bugging?’

‘Yeah, it’s all the go. People want you to de-bug everything, cars, dunnies, the lot. I did a course in it.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Means I talked to a bloke in a pub about it. He puts bugs in and he told me how to take them out. He learned it from another bloke in another pub. What’s the job?’

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