An Affair With Danger - a noir romance novella

by Robin Storey

  ‘I could have got a medical certificate for me having cancer,’ Frankie said.

  ‘The same way you got the other one? No way. I’ve already lied and misrepresented myself, and I don’t fancy breaking the law as well.’

  ‘Fine, Mr Upright Citizen, let’s see how far your charms get you.’

  I gulped down the rest of my coffee and brushed the croissant crumbs off me. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’

  At the school entrance, we followed the signs to the administration block. Classes had obviously started as most of the students had disappeared, except for a few stragglers. A fiercely efficient-looking woman at the front counter gave us the once-over.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  I knew she wasn’t Amanda even before I spotted her name tag – Myra.

  ‘Good morning, Myra. I’m Will McPherson, I’m a solicitor and this is my client Francis Slater. Is Amanda available?’

  ‘Amanda’s not in today,’ she said curtly. ‘What’s it concerning?’

  Plan B needed. What was plan B?

  ‘It’s a rather delicate matter,’ I said. ‘Is there someone we can talk to in private?’

  She studied Frankie, no doubt trying to work out whose parent she was. ‘Is it about your child, Ms Slater?’

  Frankie shook her head.

  ‘Ms Slater doesn’t have a child at this school,’ I said.

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry, that’s all I can say,’ I said.

  A brief look of concern flitted across her face. I’d made it sound rather sinister – she was probably thinking it was not good news if there was a lawyer involved.

  ‘The principal’s in a meeting but the deputy could probably see you. Is that all right?’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  She disappeared and came back accompanied by a short, red-haired woman in a tailored suit. ‘Good morning, I’m Lyn Andrews, the deputy principal.’

  I introduced us both and we all shook hands. Her handshake was firm and businesslike. We followed her into her office, a small room dwarfed by an expansive desk.

  She took her seat behind it and motioned for us to sit down. What she lacked in height she made up for in presence. She wasn’t going to be a pushover.

  ‘So, you’re a solicitor, Mr McPherson. Are you going to sue us?’

  Right to the point. I decided to take a leaf out of her book. ‘No, I’m not going to sue you, but I am going to ask you to consider a request which is a little unusual and against your code of ethics. But I consider the end justifies the means.’

  Frankie shifted in her chair and I sensed her inner smirk.

  ‘No doubt Hitler had the same point of view,’ Lyn said, ‘but I’m intrigued, so tell me what it is so at least I know what I’m refusing.’

  I told her Frankie’s story, from the time Jake was taken away from the family through to her failed attempts to find him. I recounted the facts, leaving out the emotion.

  ‘And now, Ms Slater has just been given the diagnosis of stomach cancer – she’s about to start chemotherapy but it’s just delaying the inevitable. The doctors have given her 12 months. I met her through another client and she asked me to help her track down her brother as she desperately wants to find him before she passes away. I managed to find out that he was adopted by a foster family living in Gosford and I have an inkling he went to this school. His name was Jacob Van Graf but he was adopted when he was 12, so his name may have been changed to that of his foster family. I know you’re not permitted to release information about students, but this school is our only lead. If we can find out what address he was living at while he was here, that gives us somewhere to start from.’

  From my briefcase I took out the Adoption Information Certificate that Frankie had given me and handed it to Lyn.

  ‘This is proof that Ms Slater is his sister and that she’s authorised to seek information about him.’

  She glanced at it. ‘You do realise what you’re asking me to do, Mr McPherson? You’re not only asking me to breach the school’s confidentiality but the foster family’s confidentiality as well.’

  ‘I’m fully aware of that, and of course I wouldn’t divulge my sources – not even under torture.’

  Lyn didn’t smile. She was looking at Frankie.

  ‘Ms Slater, have you ever considered that if you find your brother he might not want to know you? You might think that couldn’t happen, but you don’t know him now – children change as they grow up, sometimes dramatically.’

  Frankie shrugged. ‘I’d do the bossy big sister thing and try my hardest to persuade him, but if he really didn’t want to see me…’ her voice trailed away and she swallowed hard, ‘at least I’d have given it my best shot.’

  ‘So it would give you closure?’

  ‘Closure! That’s such a bullshit word!’ Frankie spat out. ‘Nothing will ever give me closure, not even finding him. Nothing will change the fact that he was taken away from me and nothing can bring back those years we missed.’

  For God’s sake shut up. Frankie glanced at me then said, ‘Sorry for swearing, but I meant every word.’

  She took her wallet out of her handbag, slipped out the crumpled photo of her and Jake as children and placed it on the desk in front of Lyn. Lyn’s expression remained unchanged as she studied the photo then passed it wordlessly back to Frankie. This wasn’t going to plan. Lyn didn’t strike me as the sort of person whose heartstrings would be moved by baby photos, or by being sworn at, for that matter.

  The phone on her desk rang. ‘Hullo ... all right, I’ll just look it up and be right there.’

  She tapped away on her computer for a few seconds then got up. ‘Excuse me, there’s something I have to attend to. I’ll be back shortly.’

  She closed the door behind her. Frankie and I looked at each other.

  ‘Did I blow it?’ Frankie asked.

  Probably.

  ‘Probably not,’ I said. ‘She’s a hard nut to crack.’

  Frankie stood up, leaned over the desk and looked at the computer monitor.

  ‘Sit down for God’s sake, before she comes back.’

  ‘No, Will, look!’ She turned the monitor around to face us. We were looking at a spreadsheet entitled ‘Year 12 Students 2000.’ It was in alphabetical order and just over halfway down the page was the name Jacob Magarry. Date of birth 06/06/1983. Address 20 Glenfields Road, North Gosford. And a phone number as well.

  ‘It’s Jake!’ she said. ‘Different surname but same date of birth.’

  I grabbed a notebook and pen from my briefcase, and scribbled down the address and phone number. Frankie was still studying the information. ‘He was in 12A and scored 95 for his final results. That’s pretty damn good! I never even started year 12. And look, he did physics and chemistry. My brother is a genius!’

  Her face shone with pride. I put my hand gently on her arm. ‘We have to pretend we didn’t see this; that’s why she’s done it this way.’

  I turned the screen around and we sat back in our seats. ‘Don’t forget to look sick,’ I whispered, as the door opened and Lyn bustled back in.

  ‘Sorry for the interruption.’ She remained standing. ‘I’m sure you both appreciate that despite your unfortunate circumstances, Ms Slater, I can’t give you the information you’ve requested. But I wish you well.’

  She faltered for a moment as she realised what she’d said, then stood aside to let us out. We shook hands again.

  ‘Thank you for your time anyway, Ms Andrews.’

  I winked at her to let her know we’d got what we wanted.

  We were silent till we got out the front gate. Then Frankie shrieked and wrapped her arms around me. ‘That was fucking great! I take it back about your charms!’

  I laughed. ‘I think somehow it might have been your dubious charms that did it.’

  Her body was deliciously warm and soft against mine and it wasn’t just her perfume that was making my head spin.

  She pulled herself away from me abruptl
y. ‘Let’s go there now.’

  Chapter 12

  FRANKIE rang the phone number I’d written down; but as expected, it had been disconnected. I punched the address into the GPS – it was only a few streets away. As we drove, Frankie was silent. I guessed she was mulling over the new information about Jake.

  ‘His adopted family must have been good for him,’ she said. ‘You don’t usually get good results at school if you’re unhappy. He did better than me, the lucky bastard.’

  ‘You weren’t happy with your foster family?’

  ‘Families, I lost count of how many I had. A couple were okay.’

  Chasms unspoken, but now was not the time to probe. Number 20 was a low-set, shabby brick home. A pushbike and two skateboards were flung across the front lawn. It had an air of lifelessness about it, and there was no answer to the doorbell.

  ‘There’s obviously someone living here,’ I said. ‘Let’s come back at six o’clock and hopefully we’ll catch them home.’

  Frankie walked around the side of the house and peered in through a window.

  ‘Come on, stickybeak.’

  ‘I want to see what his house is like.’

  ‘His family might have moved from here,’ I pointed out.

  ‘I know, but even if they have, he lived here once. I know it sounds stupid, but I want to feel his presence.’

  I waited in the car for her as she stood at the fence staring at the home, hoping the neighbours wouldn’t think we were casing the joint. When she got in I said, ‘It’s too early to check into the motel. What do you want to do?’

  ‘Let’s go to the beach,’ Frankie said. ‘I want to feel the sand under my feet.’

  It occurred to me it would be safer if we hung out where there were crowds, for example, a shopping centre. It would be harder to ascertain if anyone was following us but also harder for someone to rearrange my ‘pretty face’. I’d continued to check my rear vision since arriving in Gosford but hadn’t spied any suspicious vehicles. And the beach sounded much more inviting.

  As I headed towards the ocean, Frankie checked Facebook on her phone for Jake Magarry. There were only two – one was the wrong age, the other was born in the United States. She also looked up the White Pages phone book, but there were no Magarrys in Gosford.

  ‘They could have an unlisted number,’ I pointed out. ‘Or not even have a landline at all.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so. I suppose I should be thankful he has a fairly unusual surname – imagine if it was Brown or Smith!’

  I parked in front of a small beach nestled into a rocky headland, sprinkled with sun worshippers spreadeagled on the sand, invoking the sun god to transform their pasty winter skin into a golden summer tan.

  The day was clear and light, and full of hope. We took off our shoes and I walked sedately along, relishing the solidity of the wet sand under my bare feet. It had been a long time since I’d walked barefoot on the sand, despite living a stone’s throw from the ocean. Frankie rolled up her jeans and paddled in the shallows. When we reached the rock wall, she turned to me.

  ‘Let’s go in.’

  Without waiting for my reply, she threw off her shirt, yanked her jeans down and stood before me in her underwear. ‘You coming?’ Her mouth curved provocatively. ‘You are wearing underpants?’

  She turned and raced into the water, hair streaming behind her. I was surprised at how well filled out her body was for someone so thin – the muscular thinness of an athlete. She dived into a wave and came up spluttering and laughing.

  ‘Come on in, it’s magic!’ She jumped a wave and her breasts bounced in their black lacy confines then she caught another and bodysurfed into shore. What sort of woman goes swimming in black lacy underwear? Someone who’s trying to bait me?

  But Frankie’s exuberance was childlike and she was either oblivious or uncaring about her effect on anyone else. I had a feeling she would have done the same, regardless of whose company she was in. I wanted to join her, to prove I wasn’t the stick-in-the-mud I suspected she thought I was, but watching her frolicking half naked had caused me to be in a state of arousal, which would be rather obvious once I removed my jeans. I sat down on the sand and tried to think unsexy thoughts. Tax, bankruptcy, the enormous hairy wart on my Aunt Edith’s chin. Anything except my fantasy of a rogue breaker ripping off Frankie’s underwear.

  Frankie’s head bobbed up from the water and she waved to me. ‘Come on, party pooper! You can’t come to the beach and not go for a swim!’

  ‘I’m working up to it!’ I called back. She turned round and dived under a wave. Now was my chance. I pulled off my shirt, unzipped my jeans, stepped out of them and raced into the water before she had time to surface again. The coldness hit me with such intensity it took my breath away. ‘Holy Jesus, it’s freezing!’

  Frankie turned around and grinned. ‘Wimp!’

  My body was now completely numb and my balls had shrivelled to the size of prunes. Any sexy thoughts had been put into a cryogenic state, to be resurrected later. After a few minutes of bodysurfing, I was warm enough to start enjoying myself. At Frankie’s suggestion we had a series of swimming races, which she won hands down, gliding effortlessly through the water like a dolphin.

  ‘Swimming was never my strong point,’ I said. ‘I’m more of a land animal.’

  In that strange way in which time seems to expand when you’re in the water, it seemed as if we were there for at least an hour, but it was probably only half that time. We sat on the sand in the sun drying ourselves off. The sea breeze tickled my wet skin and gave me goosebumps. I glanced at Frankie and noticed she had goosebumps as well – all over her, including her nipples. I hastily averted my eyes. Don’t you dare! I silently warned my penis.

  ‘I know one way to get warm,’ she said, jumping up. ‘Let’s have a race. To the rock wall and back. From that pile of seaweed.’ She pointed to it, about 100 metres down the beach.

  I didn’t fancy running up and down the beach in my underpants. Particularly as I’d just realised I was wearing one of my older pairs, which sported a couple of holes.

  She gave me a taunting look. ‘Come on, land animal.’

  I gave a mock groan. ‘If I race you, will you leave me alone so I can build a sand castle?’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  At the pile of seaweed, I drew a line in the sand with my foot.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Frankie said.

  ‘Excuse me!’ she called out to a man who was approaching us. He was short and wiry with dreadlocks, wearing only a pair of board shorts. His skin was leathery brown underneath an elaborate artwork of tattoos. He was throwing a stick to his portly golden labrador, who bounded after it with the grace of a pregnant elephant.

  ‘We’re having a race,’ Frankie said. ‘Can you be the referee?’

  Dreadlocks looked us both up and down, his glance flickering over my holey underpants then coming to rest on Frankie. He looked like one of the old-school surfies from way back when it was cool to surf all day and smoke bongs all night.

  ‘Whaddya need a referee for?’ he drawled. ‘Are you training for the Olympics?’

  ‘We need an objective third party.’ Frankie jerked her thumb in my direction. ‘He’s a lawyer; he’s bound to find a loophole somewhere.’

  ‘You’re obviously scared I’m going to beat you,’ I said.

  ‘Not at all,’ Frankie said. ‘Just want to avoid any disputes. Isn’t that what lawyers are supposed to do?’

  ‘All right, children, enough arguing!’ Dreadlocks was getting into the spirit of it. ‘Line up and when I say ‘bang!’ you go.’

  We lined up. Dreadlocks pointed an imaginary starter pistol in the air. ‘Ready, steady, BANG!’

  Frankie took off like a greyhound with a firecracker under her. I soon caught up and so did the labrador, racing beside us, excited to be in on this new game. On the home run Frankie was just a smidge in front of me and the dog. I put on a final burst of energy – my pride was at stake here. I wa
s not going to be beaten by a woman and /or an overweight labrador.

  It seemed to me that Frankie and I reached the line at exactly the same second, with the labrador a close second. But the referee disagreed.

  ‘First prize to the Lady in Black!’ he called, giving her an appraising once-over.

  ‘Come on!’ I said. ‘That was a tie!’

  ‘See?’ Frankie said triumphantly, ‘I told you he’d object!’

  ‘It was definitely the lady,’ Dreadlocks said. ‘Her tits were over the line first.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he added to Frankie. ‘Hope I didn’t offend you.’

  Frankie grinned. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Unfair advantage, ‘ I protested.

  ‘Referee’s decision is final,’ Dreadlocks said. ‘You two lovebirds will have to fight it out in the bedroom.’

  ‘We’re not lovebirds,’ Frankie said. ‘He’s my lawyer.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Dreadlocks said, giving me a knowing look. I had to admit, the evidence for that statement wasn’t convincing. How many people had races on the beach in their underwear with their lawyer?

  Being well and truly dry now, we put our clothes back on.

  ‘If we were in a court of law, I’d dispute that decision,’ I said. ‘I think the referee was blinded by your obvious assets. But as we’re not, I’m willing to gracefully concede defeat.’

  ‘Big of you,’ Frankie said, buttoning her shirt over her assets.

  ‘And to prove it, I’ll shout you lunch.’

  As we walked up the beach towards the café across the road, I said, ‘You’re a natural athlete.’

  ‘It was the only thing I was good at at school. I was a bit of a tomboy as a kid. I was the only girl the boys would allow on their soccer team. I could run faster than most of them and if they teased me about being a girl, I’d knock them out.’

  I grinned. ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’