Sharp Turn (Tara Sharp Book 2) by Marianne Delacourt

Author:Marianne Delacourt [Delacourt, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781922101327
Publisher: Twelfth Planet Press
Published: 2016-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

As I passed through North Freo on my way home, the neon sign advertising Sable’s caught my eye. I veered left and pulled into the car park. I needed to talk to Crack. And besides, I didn’t want to go home to my flat and sit there thinking about what had just happened.

Soon, I was perched at the bar, sipping a soda. Things were quiet, and Sable was out the back Facetiming with her cousin in Spain, so Crack was happy to plant himself opposite me with only the occasional nervous glance over at the staff room.

‘How’s the job going?’ he asked.

‘Slowly,’ I said. ‘I was kinda hoping you could give me some background on a few things.’

His eyes took on the shine that told me he’d happily talk about bike racing well into his next life. ‘What did you want to know?’

‘You heard about any problems between Team Riley and Moto-Sane? Or between the mechanics? Apparently they had a fight out at the track. Cops got called in.’

‘Yeah? Well, I don’t know either of the wrenches, but I’ve heard they both came from the same works team in Europe. Maybe it's a long running thing?’

He poured himself a glass of lemonade. I was pleased to see it. Crack had a penchant for rum, and rum had a penchant for Crack. Together, they got a bit crazy. One time after a rum-and-cola night, Crack tried to jump off a flyover bridge in Claremont, just to see if he could. I tied him to the railing with his belt until we both sobered up. I guess drinking was another thing Sable had saved him from.

‘Which team?’ I asked.

‘Aprilia, I think.’

‘So they have a history?’

‘Could do.’

‘What about Gig Riley?’

‘Gig’s a pretty fine rider, but he’s not a natural like Bolo’s guy.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s kinda hard to explain. Lemme think… You know how in basketball you get those players who can just do things without thinking? It’s like they see the gaps on the court. The really good billiards players are the same—they reckon they see the lines on the table. Well, bikes are no different. You can be technically good but not have the feel.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘When you're “one with the machine”?’

‘Sounds corny, I know, but it’s actually true.’

I understood what he meant. ‘So what about the father?’

‘Riley senior's a hard bastard. Not someone you wanna cross from what I hear.’

‘And the other two? Bennett and Chesley?’

‘Chesley’s a partnership. You know Shakes the jeweller?’

I nodded.

‘It’s kind of a hobby for him. Same for the engineer guy, Hardwick. Fair bit of internal politics, so I hear.’

‘And Bennett?’

‘Honest-to-goodness racing family. Been doing it for years. The father used to race cars and the uncle was into speedway. They say the youngest Bennett girl is mad keen on drifting.’

I grunted with disapproval. As far as I could tell, the motorsport of drifting was like skydiving without a parachute.

‘Thanks, Crack,’ I said. Pretty much everything he’d said confirmed what I’d learnt so far and I now had a lead on the fight between the mechanics.

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