JonDLundyn Parker 2 #12
February 19th 2007 04:02
Chapter 12
Lundyn and his mate Roscoe were set up in the corner of a small coffee shop in their local village. A small space had been cleared and they were sitting on stools playing to a small but enthusiastic crowd of jazz aficionados. Roscoe had his massive paws wrapped lovingly around his acoustic guitar and Lundyn was playing his tenor saxophone. Roscoe had the unlit stub of a hand rolled cigarette hanging from his lips. And at a small table adjacent to them cups of cooling coffee and melted cheese
fingers stood waiting for them. Dressed in smart slacks and loud printed Hawaiian style shirts the guys looked like a couple of typical bum musicians.
The general entered flicking his cigarette into an ashtray kept for the purpose by the front door. He nodded his head to the two men as he held up one finger to the waitress who began preparing his espresso. He took a seat at the fringe of the small crowd and waited. He cast his eyes over the small crowd and his brow wrinkled in worry when he saw Alby Woo sitting with a plump middle aged bottle blonde woman. Alby was wearing dark glasses and a soft cloth hat trying very hard not to look like a detective. The general looked further around the room and did not see any one else he recognised.
As his friends finished playing they motioned for him to join them. The small crowd looked to where their entertainment was motioning and some recognised the old man and started to clap. The general smiled and pulled his battered harmonica from his pocket and joined Lundyn and Roscoe for one number. The men were playing in a small charity gig that was attempting to raise money for the victims of the fires. Roscoe had already handed over nearly half a million in cash. This was the proceeds of a drug bust the two adventurers had stumbled upon early in the year. Roscoe, in a flash of daring do, had taken the lion’s share of a haul of cash lying on the floor of an on board murder scene. Regretting his folly almost instantly he had been waiting for an opportunity to get rid of the hot money. The bushfire appeal was a ready made opportunity. Alby Woo, the crooked Newcastle cop and one time associate of the small drug lord who owned the money was still trying to recover it. He had no idea what Roscoe had done with it and was still following him hoping to be somehow lead to the loot.
Lundyn and his mate Roscoe were set up in the corner of a small coffee shop in their local village. A small space had been cleared and they were sitting on stools playing to a small but enthusiastic crowd of jazz aficionados. Roscoe had his massive paws wrapped lovingly around his acoustic guitar and Lundyn was playing his tenor saxophone. Roscoe had the unlit stub of a hand rolled cigarette hanging from his lips. And at a small table adjacent to them cups of cooling coffee and melted cheese
fingers stood waiting for them. Dressed in smart slacks and loud printed Hawaiian style shirts the guys looked like a couple of typical bum musicians.
The general entered flicking his cigarette into an ashtray kept for the purpose by the front door. He nodded his head to the two men as he held up one finger to the waitress who began preparing his espresso. He took a seat at the fringe of the small crowd and waited. He cast his eyes over the small crowd and his brow wrinkled in worry when he saw Alby Woo sitting with a plump middle aged bottle blonde woman. Alby was wearing dark glasses and a soft cloth hat trying very hard not to look like a detective. The general looked further around the room and did not see any one else he recognised.
As his friends finished playing they motioned for him to join them. The small crowd looked to where their entertainment was motioning and some recognised the old man and started to clap. The general smiled and pulled his battered harmonica from his pocket and joined Lundyn and Roscoe for one number. The men were playing in a small charity gig that was attempting to raise money for the victims of the fires. Roscoe had already handed over nearly half a million in cash. This was the proceeds of a drug bust the two adventurers had stumbled upon early in the year. Roscoe, in a flash of daring do, had taken the lion’s share of a haul of cash lying on the floor of an on board murder scene. Regretting his folly almost instantly he had been waiting for an opportunity to get rid of the hot money. The bushfire appeal was a ready made opportunity. Alby Woo, the crooked Newcastle cop and one time associate of the small drug lord who owned the money was still trying to recover it. He had no idea what Roscoe had done with it and was still following him hoping to be somehow lead to the loot.
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