The Day of the Gecko Read Online Free

was on the bottom right-hand side. She had pot plants on her long, narrow verandah, which was next to the entry pathway, and some vine-covered latticework on the comer to stop people reaching over or getting onto the balcony too easily. She also had the name of the units painted in a scroll on her wall. Golda Court. It looked like a nice part of Bondi with lots of tall, leafy trees, wide grassy median strips, grand old homes and expensive-looking home units.
    â€˜Not bad, Susie,’ smiled Les. ‘Looks like you’ve done well, mate.’
    â€˜Yeah, I think so,’ nodded Susie. ‘Once I get in front it’ll be better. Come down the back and I’ll show you where the garages are before we go inside.’
    â€˜Righto.’
    Susie led Les along a gravel path that went past her unit and the front door of the flats, to where there were more units and a door built out on the right. She opened it and Les followed her down an angled flight of stairs to the parking bay. There were twelve garages with metal roller-doors; Susie’s was open all the time because the lock had jammed and empty because her car was in for repair. Another larger roller-door opened onto the driveway and worked by a buzzer; Susie said she’d give Les her buzzer when they went upstairs. She showed Les the garbage bay and where he could wash his car if he wanted to. Les had a bit of a look around, then followed Susie back the way they came. She opened the front door, a set of stairs ran up to the left, a hallway banked off to the left again past the other three ground floor units; Susie’s was the one on the end. The key clicked in the deadlock and they were inside.
    The unit was roomy, yet compact, with a decentsized lounge room. A mirror wall next to the alcove as you entered and another at the end of a short hallway past the two bedrooms also added an illusion of size. A sliding door led to the kitchen and laundry on your left as you walked in and a sliding glass door led from the lounge onto the deeper of the two balconies. The lounge room edged in a bit next to the balcony which was where Susie had the TV. There was a bedroom door that was closed, another one half-closed along a short hallway with the bathroom opposite, and that was about it. The carpet was plain brown with matching cream wallpaper and curtains, and there were low-hanging soft light fittings. One of those solid wooden Spanish-style lounges and lounge chairs in red and yellow with matching foot stools and coffee tables ran along one wall. Framed posters hung on the walls, mainly old Marx Brothers movies or old rock stars: Buddy Holly, Janis Joplin, James Brown, Little Richard, though there was one of Prince or whatever he called himself now, with his new, odd-looking guitar. Plants and vines either sat or hung in the comers giving the place a little warmth and an obvious woman’s touch. The best thing though — along the wall next to the kitchen and facing the lounge — was a stereo, the speakers separated by a table packed with hundreds and hundreds of CDs just like in a record shop. Beneath the table were boxes crammed with more CDs. Norton had never seen so many CDs in one person’s home.
    â€˜Not a bad place you’ve got, Susie,’ said Les, giving a nod of grudging approval. ‘Modem, clean, roomy.Like I said outside, you’ve done well. Good luck to you.’
    â€˜Yeah. Thanks, Les,’ smiled the new owner. ‘I. . . rather like it myself.’
    Norton ran his eyes around the stereo again. ‘I’ll tell you what. Jesus! You’ve got some bloody CDs.’
    â€˜Yeah. Some of them I keep, but mostly I wheel and deal. I got a bloke gets me imports and I offload them to specialty shops and recycled record shops. There’s a good earn there. You like music, Les?’
    â€˜Reckon.’ Norton flicked through a couple of rows of CDs. ‘I might tape a couple of these while I’m here —