The Outing, page 1
The Outing
By Fabian Foley
Published by Fabian Foley at Smashwords
Copyright 2023 Fabian Foley
***
License Statement
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
PART ONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
PART TWO
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
PART THREE
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
PART FOUR
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
PART FIVE
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Note for Reader
Acknowledgements
About the Author and Connect
With Gratitude… for Tom and Madelaine and Paul, who always believed in me. And me, for finally believing them.
***
“Power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anaemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love.” Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.
THE OUTING
Fabian Foley
Prologue
Brisbane 1986
On the verandah overlooking the front yard, Robert absentmindedly fingered the outline of the watch nestled in his pocket, wondering why he'd thought time off work was a good idea. He flung his half-finished tea over the railing and watched the liquid separate into different sized droplets and hold themselves in the air, before sloshing together onto the upturned faces of whatever those blue and white starburst flowers were called. Agga-something. Agapanthus.
After rinsing the cup, he headed to the back yard, retrieved the washing, and then paced with the folded bundles from the pile to their various homes, trying to ignore the phone. Marnie had promised she'd call once they had the coroner's report. Harry had promised the update from his private investigator on the search for Alan John Peters would be instantly relayed. All he had to do was be patient.
If he vacuumed, the kids would wake up and he'd have something else to think about. He shoved the plug into the wall socket. Nothing. He looked at it vacantly before noticing the switch. Fuck. He reached down and flicked it on. It roared into life.
He'd finished the back of the house and thought he heard the kids. He started to lean over to switch off the vacuum and check, but then, over the high pitched drone, vocal tones registered. It sounded like 'I can hear the vacuum cleaner. Go and get mummy' and 'No' and 'Mummy's at school'. That was Emma.
Then quite distinctively, “It’s not school. It’s una - univer-city.”
He smiled. Thomas.
As he turned the corner into the central hallway, pulling the machine by the flexible hose, he saw them, his children, pushing against the front door. The sunlight from the front verandah was brightly obscuring two other figures, haloed at the end of the tunnel. He stepped forward and in the changing play of light and shade the image cleared.
Emma and Thomas ran back to him and clutched at his chinos.
Something was trying to claw out of his chest.
“Robert Carson?”
He nodded.
Hands holding shiny metal badges waved across his vision, “I’m detective…”
The words were lost. Drowned in the thumping echo inside his head and the whining drone of the machine. He bent down and switched it off.
PART ONE 1985
Chapter 1
Arriving at his boss's office Robert expected to return Duncan's oh-good-you're-here smile, with his own of-course-no-problem one. Instead, he found himself in slack-jawed confusion, transfixed by the back of someone's head.
A face he could understand. They have an irresistible attraction that the back of someone's head doesn't. It made no sense. But something about this one was trying to surface, and the contents of his almost eidetic memory was delayed somewhere, dragging itself through the mud, instead of floating elegantly to the surface.
He noted the shoulder-length chestnut hair, with its soft waves, how the light caught the auburn undertones.
The present disappeared.
A figure seemed to be floating up a waterfall of cascading stair-lights. It shimmered as if he was watching it through a misty sheen of tears. That head, emblazoned in his memory by the foyer lights as the door opened, then closed. The Schonell Theatre. His last day at uni.
Duncan’s voice brought him back, “Robert. Come in.”
The person with their back to Robert stood and turned, and time and his breathing stopped.
“This is John Saunders,” said Duncan, then put his hand up correcting himself. “I mean, Johnny Saunders. He said you know each other.”
Somehow they were gripping each other's hand and Robert tried to suppress a shivery tingle at the back of his neck. His gaze shifted to Duncan, checking to see if his spiking adrenaline was broadcasting itself, and nudged the chair next to Johnny with his foot, before sinking gratefully into it.
“Yes. Yes, we do,” Robert considered whether he needed to add anything. In the end he said nothing.
Johnny did, “Nice to see you again Robert. I often wondered if you'd stay, with law, I mean, as a job.”
Robert's acknowledgment was subdued and he turned towards Duncan, ignoring the clamour of unasked questions, “How can I help?” He managed to sound his usual, relaxed and confident. Professional.
“Well,” said Duncan, “it's rather… and I don't want to cause you any, umm,” he pressed his lips together and nodded. “I'll be straightforward. Johnny here is-ahh homosexual. Gay. And,” his hand made a traffic stop signal, “as far as I'm concerned, that's entirely his own business.”
Robert offered a slight nod, waiting, not breathing.
“Mmm-yes. And because you’re aware, from your-ahh, association,” up came the hand, “he filled me in. You were members of the same cast? Classes? At university.”
Robert inclined his head further.
“Of course, ordinarily… I only bring it up because it bears on, well,” he stopped talking and coughed to mask the pause, “and well, he assured me you weren't offended. In fact, you were friends, so I decided to bring you in on his case.”
This time Robert's nod was measured and full, “Go on.”
“It concerns Judge Matthews and Johnny here.”
Robert's eyebrow was the only thing that moved.
“It seems the police have been covertly investigating the Judge,” said Duncan.
“Why? Don't they need a reason to follow people?” Robert's brow creased, “Not these days I suppose.”
“Mmm-yes-quite. But he's found himself in a rather awkward position. Well not him so much. It was on the news,” Duncan's chatty waffle was trying to cover his embarrassing introduction. “You may recall, Judge Matthews commenting on his case about already entered and crucial evidence being misplaced, so the clearly guilty party had to be let off. That journalist from the Courier Mail, what's his name?” Duncan turned to Johnny then answered his own question, “Yes, Simon Draper, had a few words to say, along the lines of what was the point of the Lucas Inquiry, if this sort of thing kept happening. And I believe this-ahh,” he searched, “allegation, yes, is their way of keeping him quiet. Judge Matthews. Not the journalist. Obviously. The problem then,” Duncan leaned forward, “at least as far as we're concerned, is Mr Saunders, sorry,” he lifted his hand again, “John
“Not following,” Robert shook his head, wondering if the shock of seeing Johnny had made him miss something or it was just Duncan being uncharacteristically inelegant.
“To keep him quiet, they're using me,” said Johnny.
“But why you?” Robert frowned.
Johnny ran his right hand through his hair, scrunching it. Robert remembered he did that when he was upset or nervous or afraid.
“They can't arrest the Judge,” said Johnny. “It'd be too obvious. He makes some comment in the press and wham he's arrested for being gay.”
Robert still looked blank.
“The Judge, Harry. He's my boyfriend.”
“Oh,” said Robert, “but how?”
“You probably don't remember. I thought I might get some paid roles if I did a stint at New Theatre in Sydney. I didn't. But I met Harry-”
“No, I meant how did this happen? Why did they arrest you?”
“Oh,” said Johnny.
“I've checked the QP9,” Duncan intervened, reading the police report. “DS Nichols and DC Andrews, off duty, were in the same bar as Judge Matthews. Of course.” His head shook. “Anyway, a young man entered, engaging the Judge in unwelcome conversation.”
“Not exactly a crime,” Robert commented.
“But,” said Johnny, “soliciting is. They made up a story that's what I was doing.”
“How would they even know?”
“They don't,” said Johnny. “That's the whole point. They made it up.”
“The perpetrator was brought in,” Duncan continued reading the police report, “on the grounds he posed a threat to other patrons. They recently passed some legislation that this is now a crime too, I believe.”
“Nothing's happened, so in reality, fuck,” Johnny took a moment, “sorry, they can't arrest Harry or me, but they wanted something over him.”
“But that's extortion,” Robert's voice rose. “It will implicate him in something else if they choose to use it.”
“I rather think that's the point,” Duncan's lips soured. “And this allegation-”
“Not an allegation Mr Eldridge, sorry to butt in. They charged me, fingerprints and all.” Johnny turned to Robert, “Remember? You said, it won't disappear. Ever.”
Robert could feel the memory hovering and hazarded a searching look into Johnny’s eyes. He glanced away looking for composure, then turned back, “So you want us to represent you?”
“I want someone to,” Johnny's smile was slow, tentative, breaking like a winter sunrise.
Robert basked in its hesitant warmth for a moment too long.
This time Johnny looked away.
Duncan, apparently oblivious, ruminated, “It's about leverage and-ahh,” he stopped. “But it's set up nicely for an out. While Johnny can’t prove his innocence, not that he should really have to, they can't prove his guilt. The QP9's on record, so the story can't change,” another pause. “Well, it could. They seem to lose and find statements and witnesses and evidence to suit these days. But in my estimation, it hinges on whether this gets treated as a summary matter or something more serious.”
“You mean criminal. Not serious,” Johnny’s face sagged.
“So where is he? Judge Matthews,” Robert asked.
Johnny's hand continued its path towards the back of his head, and Robert's heart flooded with the same tenderness he felt when Emma or Thomas's bottom lip quivered. His averted eyes found the formal portrait photo of them both with he and Lauren on Duncan’s desk. He wondered if Johnny noticed it.
“I'm staying at my own place for a while,” said Johnny, and Duncan looked at something riveting on the back of his hand. “Harry said to see his old friend Duncan Eldridge. Something about a favour. That he'd help.”
Robert stood and went to put a hand on Johnny's shoulder then quickly lifted it away, “I'm fine to assist. I mean what are friends for? Even old ones you haven’t seen in a long time. Whatever you need.” He glanced towards Duncan, “It's not my field but-”
“I know,” said Duncan. “It isn't anyone's field, is it? I thought, given the circumstances, people's attitudes, you know…”
“I'm assuming then,” Robert filled the space, “you'll direct me with any relevant criminal statutes?” Duncan was already nodding, “OK then. Once I have those, I'll get myself up to speed. Is there a plan, besides no proof either way?”
“It should merely be a matter of making an appearance. But we need to be prepared either way, summary or,” he stopped. “And we can't antagonize them. I hate to say it, but if we start making waves, they'll start making evidence. No. We go along with it. You'll see, it'll be thrown out. We don't want to open up a can of worms,” said Duncan.
“Would that be so bad?” Johnny said. “I mean I'd rather it wasn't me, but all this paying off and secrets… Nothing'll change.”
“I don't-” Robert frowned. “What? They've taken a bribe?”
“Of course. What do you think?” Johnny scowled, “Two grand.”
“That's half a car. So, if they've been paid off, how come you're still-”
“In the shit?” Johnny finished. “They're making a point? I don’t know. Evidence not disappearing?”
“Regardless,” Duncan said, “we'll focus on miscommunication. Mistakes can be made. Perfectly understandable. They were doing their job. You expected it to be sorted at the station,” he looked at Johnny. “It wasn't. You're an actor… you’re going to have to play it straight.”
“Meaning?” Johnny's question synced with Robert's eyebrow.
“OK. Spelling it out. You'd met the Judge before. You chat, something's misheard, misconstrued. Simple. You two,” he looked at Robert, “will need to set up an appointment and do a prelim statement.”
“I hope it is going to be that easy.” It was clear Robert doubted the hope and the ease. “I don't want them thinking we tried to bamboozle them. I don't fancy being on their wrong side. I'm sure Johnny doesn't either.”
*
For Robert, the walk to his office seemed like it wasn’t going to end, and then that it would end too soon. And he didn’t know which he’d rather. Everything hiding behind the image of the back of Johnny’s head was trying to sneak into the light.
He managed a terse, “No disturbances please, Anna,” to his secretary and then with the door closed behind them he faced Johnny, wooden and wondering what he was supposed to do, or not supposed to do.
Johnny took both Robert’s hands tentatively in both of his, “Thank you,” he scanned Robert’s face. “Just, well… thank you.”
Robert’s eyes lowered and lingered on their hands and then he turned towards his desk breaking the hold and reached for the phone, “Sorry Anna,” he said staring at his own reflection in the window. “Would you mind coming in. Mr Saunders needs an appointment. I assumed,” he paused, “I made a mistake. He can’t stay today after all.”
Johnny’s eyes moved from his empty hands to Robert’s averted face and then lingered on the photographs on Robert’s desk.
“Your kids?” said Johnny when Robert turned around.
Robert’s face relaxed, “Yeah. Pigeon pair.”
“Lauren hasn’t changed,” said Johnny. “Not that I’d have expected her to. Still stunning.”
Robert’s smile broadened, “Ahh,” he said when Anna tapped and opened the door, “good, what have we got free in the next few days?”
Chapter 2
“You OK?” said Lauren as Robert walked into the kitchen, placed an absent-minded kiss on her cheek and reached for the fridge door-handle.
“Big day. I’m a bit uptight. Fancy a drink?” He didn’t wait for an answer.
“Well?” she said as he handed her a glass.
“Remember when we first met?” it wasn’t really a question.
“You were tipsy as I recall.”
Robert raised his eyebrows, “I was celebrating.”
“Haha, of course I remember,” she said. “You know… I was always a bit surprised you two weren’t an item back then.”
Robert looked up sharply.
“Marnie, I mean,” she reached past him and turned the stove off. “Before that night I thought the baby was yours. We met her brother as well.”
