Saving Billie

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It wasn't my kind of work, but I was doing a favour for a friend. Hank Bachelor, who'd given me some help in recent times, had got his Private Enquiry Agent licence and was scratching a living at whatever he could pick up.

'It's a sort of security job, Cliff,' he said on the phone. 'At a party.'

'Bouncer,' I said.

'No, no, this is a high-class affair. Top people; charity function. Politicians, media types, the glitterati.'

'Shepherding drunks to the dunny. Calling them taxis. Seeing no one nicks the silverware.'

'Yeah, maybe a bit of that. Come on, Cliff. I'm sick as I can be with this virus and I need to stay in tight with the firm that hired me. With you as a substitute, licensed and all, I won't lose any brownie points.'

Hank is an American who has embraced Australia in every way but still uses American idioms. I agreed to stand in for him at the Jonas Clement charity evening in Manly out of friendship, and curiosity about Clement.

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