Chapter Two
"Bang! Bang!" the villain fell in a cloud of dust to the ground. The camera moved in for a close up of his twisted figure then switched to the hero, sliding his gun back into his holster. A girl with blond hair and a pink bonnet ran up to him. They kissed. A final close up of the two faces locked together and then "The End" and the credits went up to the theme music.
Frank let go of Toni's hand and stood up. "Come on; let's get out before the rush." Toni followed obediently and in a few minutes they were out on the pavement, walking towards Frank's car. It was a new model orange Holden Monaro and he was very proud of it. He opened the door for her, shutting it carefully behind her, and then got briskly in the other side.
"Good film, wasn't it?"
She made the mistake of hesitating before agreeing, and Frank gave her a lecture on the film's good points, moral and technical. By the time he had convinced himself that he had explained it all to her, they had pulled up in front of the shop. "Going to invite me in for a cup of coffee?"
She nodded reluctantly and led the way down the side of the building and in through a fly-screened door at the back. She closed the door and switched on the light. The room was a kitchen with an old fashioned gas stove in one corner and an even older linoleum covered table against one wall. Orange and yellow flowery curtains and shiny utensils transformed it from a shabby into a cheerful room. Toni set about boiling water in the kettle and putting instant coffee in two cups while Frank stood hovering over her. "There's a really good film starting at the West this Saturday, about a car race. "Speedway 500' it's called." Toni handed him a cup. "I thought we'd go and see it so I've got two tickets. You have to be quick with these new films, it'll be sold out tomorrow, I bet."
Toni looked at him in dismay, Saturday was the night she had told Carol her idol was coming. "No Frank, I can't this Saturday, I'm busy."
"What are you doing?" The thin boy in front of her spoke quietly but a shiver of unease ran up Toni's spine.
"I've got to stay home and mind the shop," she replied unconvincingly, unable to come up with a quick excuse.
Frank shifted his feet, "Then I'll come around here and see you."
"No, you can't."
"Why not?"
"My aunt won't let me have anyone in the shop when she's not here," Toni was getting desperate.
"What about the customers?"
"What? Oh the shop will be shut," Toni replied without thinking.
"Then why do you have to mind it?"
"I just do!"
"How will she know if I'm here as well?" Frank pursued.
"I don't like to lie to her," Toni protested, virtuously.
"Don't you? I hadn't noticed that before." God if only he would smile, or get angry even or something ... instead of just standing there. Couldn't he take a hint and get lost?
"I mean it; you can't come over on Saturday."
"You've got another boy coming haven't you?" he asked, still quietly.
"Alright, then, I have - if you must know!" retorted Toni defiantly.
"You shouldn't do that. You promised you'd be my girl, and it's wicked to break a promise. Tell him not to come."
"I won't! I never promised you anything! I only said I'd go out with you, but after this I don't think I should see you anymore. It's over Frank."
"No it isn't Toni. I'll come around on Saturday."
"No!" Toni was almost in tears with frustration and the beginnings of fear. "I won't let you in. Now go!" She pushed past him and held the door open, half expecting he might refuse to leave, but he only looked at her a long minute and then walked out silently. Toni locked the door behind him and leant against it in relief. He was becoming much too possessive and bossy! Talk about an inquisition!
She had let him take her home one night from a dance, and since then he'd stuck to her like glue, taking her out to a movie or a dance every Saturday. She'd always made him take her to places a few miles away, though. She didn't want anyone she knew to see them together. He was tall and thin and too serious. And who wore short hair and fake leather jackets with a fur collar these days? It was like he was living in the fifties. He had a nice car though, and seemed to have plenty of money. Still she was glad she had broken up with him. Imagine if Carol had ever seen him with her! She'd never hear the end of it. Toni turned the kitchen light off and went up to bed. Only a week until Saturday.
XXX
A column of sunlight shone brightly into the office, resting on the tear-off calendar on the wooden desk. How appropriate thought Harper sardonically. The office was small, but it had only one desk and an outside window, which were two distinct recommendations. A green filing cabinet stood in one corner with a portable fan on top of it, not that he had it turned on today.
It was Friday the twenty-first. The sun continued relentlessly to point it out to him. Friday the twenty-first Richard Philips had an appointment with Chief Inspector Harper at eleven o'clock to discuss some procedural points in his current novel. Would he come? It all depended, Harper thought, on how much he remembered of that disastrous night; whether that flash of consciousness had been swallowed up in oblivion or not. He was fairly confident Richard had not heard his confession, but he had not been able to bring himself to contact him since. Nor had Richard called him.
Harper sat at his desk and fiddled with his pen, unable to concentrate on anything else. God he'd been a fool that night! He should have left Philips at the door of his flat instead of bringing him inside and then, ultimate folly, taking off his clothes. He'd known he'd been drinking, he'd known he was taking any opportunity to touch Richard and then he had lost all self control and compromised himself irrevocably. He could say he'd been drunk he supposed ... but ... if Philips remembered.
The large round clock on the wall ticked on until the hands crossed for five to eleven. Someone knocked on the door. Harper picked up a pencil, bent hurriedly over some papers and called, "Come in." He felt almost sick with nerves.
Philips came in, shut the door behind him and looked anywhere but at Harper. The detective's heart sank. Deliberately, tension in every line of his body, he stood up, came around his desk and held out his hand. Philips hesitated. The colour drained from the other man's face and his hand fell back to his side. He knew. He remembered. Harper turned back to his desk, unconsciously wiping his hand on his trousers. Harper sat down and Philips could almost see the defences bubbling up inside him as he braced himself for the inevitable attack. Was Philips going to mock him, Harper wondered, or hit him ... report him? Even in 1975 homosexuality was still illegal in Australia.
Gradually he became aware that Philips was talking, rather desperately, about the police procedural points in his novel. So ... he was not going to acknowledge what had happened, just shun him for no apparent reason. Oh Richard! Still, he supposed it was better than he deserved. Philips could have made terrible trouble for him. Stiltedly at first, he entered into the conversation, until eventually he had answered all the other man's questions.
Philips got up to leave. He stood there awkwardly for a moment then extended his hand. "I'm sorry, Bill."
Harper couldn't believe it. He shook it hesitantly and muttered, "So am I." God how much should he apologise for? There were so many questions he wanted to ask but the very fact of asking them would be to admit so much. Perhaps it was a case of "least said, soonest mended"?
Philips stepped in first, "Let's just forget it, Bill?"
"Thanks, it ... it won't happen again, ever."
Philips nodded uncomfortably and shut the door gently behind him.
"But I'm still in love with you," whispered Harper and snapped the pencil in half.