IT WAS A GREAT HEADLINE, ‘Scandalwood’. Front page story in the Local Rag, face up amidst the coffee cups and a pot of green tea in Vultures Café. That also was a great headline, ‘Vultures’, being the meeting place on the street corner below the towering offices which employed hundreds of beavering servants of that fiercesome organization, the Australian Taxation Office, better known as the Fifth Horseman. After the four scourging riders of adversity and evil, there came a new scourge of the nation, the relentless, cruel taxman.
But that was a personal animosity.
I nudged the paper over to Murray Gill. “Now things might start to move,” I commented.
“Better do, or we go to Round 2!” the artist murmured with the merest hint of threat.
I pulled the newspaper to my side of the table, fairly satisfied that the many moons of investigative work had come to fruition, at least with the newspapers. The cops and pollies remained aloof even with the newspaper’s allegation in the bold sub-heads that prostitutes had been tabled, so to speak, along with financial favours to various
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