Abby and the Bachelor Cop

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ON SUNDAY afternoon Abby decided that she did need to speak to Philip. It was only fair. What followed was a very stilted phone call. Philip sounded appalled and angry and confused. She crept back under her duvet and hugged Kleppy and decided she didn’t need milk or bread; she could live on baked beans for a while.

The whole town was judging her.

On Monday she decided she couldn’t hide under her duvet for ever. She had to pull herself together. She was not a whimpering mess. She was not hiding a millionaire under her bed. She needed to get on with her life.

That meant getting out of bed, dressing as she always dressed, smart and corporate for the last time. Today she’d wind up this court case with Philip and then she’d resign. She’d talk reasonably to her parents. She’d start sending gifts back and then figure, slowly and sensibly, where she wanted to take her life from here.

She did need to be sensible. She no longer wanted to be a lawyer, but that didn’t mean stranding Philip or stranding her clients without reasonable notice. That was the sort of thing an hysterical ex-bride would do-the sort of woman who’d throw Philip over for some crazy, unreasonable love.

She wasn’t that woman. She’d ended an unsuitable engagement for totally sensible reasons and she was totally in control. She entered court with her head held high. She sat in court and concentrated on looking…normal.

She was aware that the courthouse held more people than it had on Friday. That’d be because people were looking at her. The woman who ditched Philip Dexter.

No matter. She was in control. Kleppy was safely locked up. She looked neat and respectable, and her court notes were beautifully filed in her lovely Italian briefcase in the order they were needed.

As the morning stretched on, she decided she hated her briefcase. She’d give it back to Philip, she thought. That was sensible. He might find a use for a matching pair.

Back home, her wedding dress was packed in tissue, waiting for someone to make another sensible decision.

What to do with two thousand beads?

Decisions, decisions, decisions.

She concentrated on taking notes for Philip, handing him the papers he needed, keeping on her sensible face-but it was really hard, and when Raff entered the courtroom she thought her face might crack. Quite soon.

Philip had called Raff back on a point of law. Just clarifying the prosecution case. Just decimating the case Raff had put together with such care.

Raff wasn’t a lawyer and he had no help. The Crown Prosecutor was hopeless. She wanted to cross the room and shake him, but Malcolm was eighty and he looked like if she shook him his teeth would fall out or he’d die of a coronary.

Wallace Baxter would get off. She could hear it in Philip’s voice.

Philip might not have had a very good weekend-yes, his fiancée had jilted him-but there was nothing of the destroyed lover in his bearing. As the morning wore on he started sounding smug.

He was winning.

He sat down beside her after pulling the last of Raff’s evidence apart and he gave her a conspiratorial smile.

He didn’t mind, she thought incredulously. He didn’t mind that she’d thrown back his ring-or not so much that it stopped him enjoying winning.

Her sensible face was slipping.

‘This is brilliant,’ Wallace hissed beside her. ‘Philip’s great. The stuff he’s done to get me off… But what’s this I hear about your engagement being off? You’d be a fool to walk away from a guy this great.’

A guy this great. Wallace was beaming.

She felt sick.

She stared around to the back of the court where Bert and Gwen Mackervale looked close to tears. Because of Wallace Baxter’s deception they’d had to sell their house. They were living in their daughter’s spare bedroom.

She thought of Lionel, a lovely, gentle man who’d live in a rooming house for ever. Because of Wallace.

And because of Philip’s skill in defending him.

She looked at Wallace and Philip and the smile between them was almost conspiratorial. The vague suspicions she’d been having about this case cemented into a tight knot of certainty. The stuff he’s done to get me off…

She was lawyer for the defence. Sensible defence lawyers did not question their own cases.

She’d stopped being sensible on Saturday afternoon. Or she thought she had. Maybe there was more sensible she had to discard.

She looked at Wallace-a guy who’d systematically cheated for all his life. She looked at Philip, smug and sure.

She looked at Raff, who’d lost control of a car one dark night when he was nineteen years old.

Forgive?

‘It’s nailed,’ Philip said. ‘Let’s see Finn get out of this.’

Finn get out of this? Wallace, surely.

But she looked at Philip and she knew he hadn’t made a mistake. Morality didn’t come into it. Raff was on the other side, therefore Raff had to be defeated.

How could she ever have thought she could marry Philip? How could her life have ended up here?

Her head was spinning. Define sensible? Sitting in a Banksia Bay courtroom defending Wallace Baxter?

Wallace and Philip…smug. Winning.

Wallace and Philip… The stuff he’s done to get me off…

Her thoughts were racing, suspicions surfacing everywhere. She didn’t know for sure, but in Philip’s briefcase… The briefcase that matched hers…

What was she thinking?

Raff was leaving now, his evidence finished. She could see by the set of his shoulders that he knew exactly what would happen.

He’d done his best for the town-for a town that judged him.

Wallace was smiling. Philip was smiling. There were only a couple of minor defence witnesses to go and then summing up. Unless…unless…

She couldn’t bear it.

Philip. Smiling. The model citizen.

Raff. Grim and stoic. The bad boy.

She was a mess of conflicting emotion. She was trying to get things clear but it was like wading into custard. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay here a moment longer.

‘Excuse me,’ she said to the men beside her. ‘I need to go.’

‘Where?’ Philip said, astounded.

‘To check on Kleppy. He gets into trouble alone.’

‘You can’t walk out-to check on a dog.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Not just to check a dog. Much, much more.’

She rose and the eyes of the court were on her. Too bad. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but there was no way in the world she could sit here any longer.

‘Bye,’ she said, to the courtroom in general.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Philip snapped, and she looked at him for a long moment and then she shook her head.

‘I won’t. Not any more. Bye, Philip.’

She lifted up the glossy Italian briefcase from under the desk, swiftly checking she had the right discreet initials, and she strode out of the court. Her pert black shoes clicked on the floor as she walked, and she didn’t look back once.

Raff paused in the entrance, to take a few deep breaths, to think there was no one to punch.

He’d wanted to punch Dexter for maybe ten years. He couldn’t. Good cops didn’t punch defence lawyers. Dexter was just doing his job.

Another deep breath.

‘Raff.’

He turned and Abby was closing the courtroom door. Leaning against it. Closing her eyes.

‘Hey,’ he said and she opened her eyes and met his gaze. Full on.

‘Hey.’ She sounded like someone just waking up.

‘You taking a break?’

‘I need to go home and check Kleppy.’

‘Fair enough.’ He hesitated. Thought about offering her a ride. Thought that might be a bad idea.

Her sports car was close, in the place marked Abigail Callahan, Solicitor. Her spot was closer than the one marked Police. It wasn’t as close as Dexter’s though. Dexter and the Judge had parking spaces side by side.

Dexter’s Porsche was the most expensive car in the car park.

Get through the other side of anger, he told himself harshly. Was there another side?

Abby had passed him now, walking into the sunlight to her car. She raised her briefcase to lay it in the passenger seat. Hesitated.

She lowered her briefcase. Fiddled with the catch.

Raised it again. Tipped.

Papers went everywhere, a sprawl of legal paperwork fluttering in the sunlight. And tapes. A score of tiny audio cassettes.

‘Whoops,’ she said as tapes went flying.

The Abigail Callahan he’d known for the last ten years would never say whoops.

But she didn’t look fussed. She didn’t move. She didn’t begin to pick anything up.

He didn’t move either. He wasn’t sure what was going on.

‘You know, these should probably be picked up,’ she said. ‘They might be important.’ Might they?

‘I’m sorry to trouble you, but I seem to have taken the wrong briefcase,’ she said, sounding carefully neutral. ‘But I’m in such a hurry… Would you mind putting the stuff back in and returning it to Philip?’

What the…?

‘There’s no rush,’ she continued. ‘Philip has his notes on the desk so he won’t miss these for a while. Maybe you could go back to the station to sort them into order before you give them back. I’m sure Philip would think that was a kindness.’

She sighed then, looking at the mess of tapes and paperwork. ‘This is what comes of having matching briefcases,’ she said. ‘They’re so easy to mix up. I told Philip it was a bad idea-I did want a blue one. But at least I do know this is Philip’s-because of the tapes. Philip always records his client appointments. He’s a stickler for recording…everything. He always has. My briefcase holds files for submission to court. Philip’s files and tapes are always in much more detail.’

They stood staring at each other in the sunlight. Abby…

‘The tapes, Raff,’ she said gently, and she gave him a wide, impudent smile. It was a smile he hadn’t seen for years. It made him feel… It made him feel…

As if Abby was back.

‘You’ll take care of them?’ she asked.

‘I…yes.’ What else was a man to say?

‘Have fun, then,’ she said and she climbed into her car. ‘I’m sure you will.’

He collected the tapes with speed-something told him it might be important to have them collected and be gone before Dexter realised the mix-up.

He thought about Abby.

He headed back to the station thinking about Abby.

Life was getting…interesting.

Have fun?

He should be thinking about tapes.

He was, but he was also thinking about Abby.

She went home, but only briefly. She changed into jeans, collected Kleppy and headed up the mountain.

She had some hard thinking to do, and it seemed the mountain was the place to do it. For a little bit she thought about Philip’s briefcase but by the time she reached the mountain she’d forgotten all about Philip. She’d moved on.

She parked out the front of Isaac’s place-the safest place to park. Kleppy whined against the fence and she cuddled him and thought…

Ben was here.

That was why she’d come. Ben had died up here, in the thick bushland on the mountain, a place that had magically been spared logging, where the gums were vast and the scenery was breathtaking. After all these years, suddenly it felt right that she was here with him. Her brother.

For the last ten years Ben had been lost, and she’d been empty.

With Kleppy carefully on the lead-who knew what he’d find here?-she walked along the side of the road where the crash had happened. The smells were driving Kleppy wild. He tugged to the place he’d been digging the night she and Raff had been here, but she pulled him away.

‘No wombat holes,’ she told him. ‘Sorry, Klep, but this trip is about me.’

She reached the foot of the crest. The road was incredibly narrow. The trees were huge-they were so close to the road.

Two cars colliding at speed… They’d never stood a chance.

She thought of that night. Of how they’d been before. Five kids. Fledgling love affairs. The things they’d all done.

Stupid kids, trying their wings. They’d been so sure they could fly. The only unknown was how far.

They’d been kids who thought they were invincible.

One stupid night.

She sank onto the verge at the side of the road and hugged her dog. ‘Raff’s right,’ she whispered, the emotions of the past two days kaleidoscoping and merging into one clear vision. ‘To forgive… That means he was wrong; the rest of us were right. That’s how we’ve acted and that’s what he’s worn. He’s accepted total blame.’

How hard must that have been?

A truck was approaching, slowly, a rattler. It came over the crest and slowed and stopped.

Lionel. Climbing out. Looking worried. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

Then he saw Kleppy and Kleppy saw him. It was hard to say who was most delighted and it took a while before Lionel finally told her why he was here.

‘I keep coming up hoping she’s left the gate open,’ Lionel told her. ‘Mr Isaac’s daughter. She’s locked the place and I can’t water the spuds. We were growing blue ones this year, just to see what they’re like.’

‘It’s a lovely garden.’

‘It was a lovely garden,’ he said, sad again, and he gave Kleppy a final hug and rose. ‘The gate’s still shut?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’d better slope off then,’ he said sadly. ‘Back to the golf course.’ He sighed and glanced towards the garden. ‘You gotta put stuff behind you. I’ll be good at growing grass.’

‘You will, too.’

‘I might go out to see Sarah some time,’ he said diffidently. ‘You be out there, too?’

‘I…probably not. I’m not sure.’

‘You’re Sarah’s friend?’

‘I am.’

‘And the copper’s friend? Raff?’

‘I hope so.’

‘He’s good,’ Lionel said. ‘When I wanted to keep Kleppy he came to see my landlady; told her how much I wanted him. Didn’t make any difference but he tried. I reckon a man like that’s a friend.’

‘He…he is.’

‘And I bet he’s pleased Kleppy’s found you,’ Lionel said, and he hugged Kleppy one last time and headed off back to his golf course.

She sat on the verge with her dog for a while longer. Letting her thoughts go where they willed.

She fiddled with the medal on Kleppy’s collar. Thought about Lionel. Thought about Isaac.

Isaac Abrahams was a brave man, she thought. He’d been through so much-and he’d gone through more for his dog.

And Raff?

He’d faced condemnation from this community from the time he was a kid, and after Ben’s death it had been overwhelming. He’d been based in Sydney at the Police Training College when the accident happened. All he’d needed to do to escape censure was move Sarah into a Sydney apartment and never come back.

He’d come back and faced condemnation because this was the place Sarah loved.

What you did for love…

She hugged her dog and looked at his collar and thought about what brave meant.

And what forgiveness was.

Tears were slipping down her cheeks now and she didn’t care. These tears should have been cried out years ago, only she’d shut them out, shut herself down, turned into someone who couldn’t face pain.

Turned into someone she didn’t like.

Could Raff like her?

In time. Maybe. If she changed and waited for a while.

But then she thought about the expression on his face as she’d told him.

If I can forgive what happened with Ben…

How could she have said it? How could she be so hurtful?

Kleppy whined and squirmed and she hugged him tighter than he approved. She let him loose a little and he licked her from throat to chin. She chuckled.

‘Oh, Kleppy, I love you.’

Love.

The word hung out there, four letters, a concept huge in what it meant.

Love.

She whispered it again, trying it out for size. Thinking of all its implications. Love.

‘I love Raff,’ she told Kleppy, and Kleppy tried the tongue thing again.

‘No.’ She set him down and rose, staring along the track where Ben had died. ‘I love you, Kleppy, but I love Raff more. Ben, I love Raff.’

Was it stupid to talk to a brother who’d been dead for ten years? Who knew, and it was probably her imagination that a breeze rustled through the trees right then, a soft, embracing breeze that warmed her, that told her it was okay, that told her to follow her heart.

‘Just as well,’ she told her big brother in a tone she hadn’t used for ten years. ‘You always were bossy but you can’t boss me out of this one. I love Rafferty Finn. I love Banksia Bay’s bad boy, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to change my mind.’