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Boosting - Chapter 20

It hadn't taken much for Joe to realise that Frank was not happy the next morning. For half an hour he'd been listening to the sounds of his brother storming about his room, so when Frank finally yanked his bedroom door open, it came as no surprise to have him glaring murderously in his direction. However, no matter how long Joe had been able to ready himself for facing his brother's wrath, he'd still hugely underestimated the tangible anger that was leaking out of the usually laid-back Frank once they'd come face-to-face.

Hoping to dilute some of the atmosphere, Joe raised himself from the sofa with a grin. "You'll never guess what happened last night after—" he started, but faltered at the look on his brother's face.

Frank stopped short and with a lip twitch began circling the room, lifting things up, flinging and pushing things aside, checking and rechecking his pockets – obviously searching for something, becoming more and more aggravated. As he reached the front windows, he paused and looked out at his bike thoughtfully. Turning on Joe, he asked forcefully: "Where's my keys?"

"Why?"

"I just realised you must have them. Give them to me; I need to get out of here. You've single handedly turned me into even more of a nut-job than I am already and I need to put some distance between us. Where are they?"

"Frank, I think—"

"—I don't freakin' care what you think. I thought I could trust you, but I was wrong so you've lost that privilege." He put his hand out. "The keys…now!"

The keys were in Joe's room, in his jacket pocket, but he didn't want to return them, he wanted to calm Frank down a little first. "I'll give them to you in a bit, but right now—"

"—Whatever." Frank turned and instead snatched up Joe's keys from the table. Joe took half a step towards him with the intention of taking them back, but Frank swung round with a wordless, cold, challenging stare.

Recognising the signs of someone close to losing it completely, Joe knew he had no other choice than to let him go and took that half a step back again. There was no way he was going to get into any sort of a physical altercation.

Frank returned to his bedroom to get his saddlebags and then headed for the front door. Pushing it open with his shoulder, he started making his way down the front steps and to the black motorcycle. As he crossed the initial porch area, however, his foot came into sharp contact with the discarded beer bottle from the night before and sent it clattering down the steps. It hit the ground and rolled to a stop by the bike's rear wheel.

Joe was following closely at Frank's heels and, with a grimace, witnessed the bottle's journey.

Frank limped down the steps to reach Joe's bike and stood looking down at the bottle until finally putting his toe to it and, with a strangled cry, kicked it hard, spinning it away until it hit the more rocky area of the shoreline. A smashing noise announced its demise and immediately, Frank was loading up his saddlebags.

"Where are you goin'?" Joe asked, stepping up to his shoulder.

Frank didn't answer. He continued to clip his bags in place, mounted the bike and prepared to leave by inserting the key and making a move to kick the stand up.

"Frank—" Joe said and caught hold of his arm before he could put his helmet on.

Frank recoiled so violently that the bike began to topple and Joe had to grasp even firmer to steady his brother and stop him from going over, pulling until the bike settled down on its stand again. "You okay?"

"Let go," Frank growled. "Or I'll snap your arm in two!" Joe didn't, frozen in shock, so Frank dropped his helmet on the ground, rose from the bike and fronted up to him, putting that extra inch of height to good use, eyes blazing.

It was Joe's turn to balk. He raised his hand away, palm out in a gesture of compliance and placation, hoping that Frank was making an empty threat - however he meant it, it was certainly having quite an effect. His brother had never spoken to him like that, and he didn't think he'd ever experienced Frank so furious with him. "The only reason I gave you those pills was because you weren't getting any rest, and I just thought—" and then unconsciously was laying the hand back on his brother's arm.

Frank tensed. "—There you go again, 'just thinking'. That's the whole problem, Joe, you're always 'just thinking'. Who are you to decide what's best for me? You've been hassling me to talk to you for weeks, but the second I did you wouldn't listen."

Joe shook his head, perplexed as to the point Frank was making.

Frank pointed a stabbing finger towards the cabin. "I wasn't tryin' to reverse what you did last night out of stubbornness, and I wasn't saying the things I was saying for effect – I was begging you, Joe, begging you not to make me go under. Do you know how humiliating that was? Didn't you even hear me?"

"Of course I did, dude, but you needed to sleep!"

Frank laughed hollowly, the smile devoid of humour, sunlight glinting off gathering telltale moisture gathering at the corner of his eye. His gaze slid away and he swiped at his face. "You really don't get it, do you, bro?"

"Get what?"

His eyes returned. "Yeah, Joe – I had a great night's sleep, thanks, very restful. You can't imagine how much fun it was being trapped in my own private hell." He tipped his head to one side, continuing to pin his brother with his glare. "Tell me Joe, have you ever had the pleasure of being tortured in the most grisly and painful of ways you can ever imagine, and then been forced to watch everyone you love being slaughtered? Only to have it happen again, over-and-over? And imagine that your usual escape route – which is simply to wake up – has been sealed off…and by who? By your own brother who decides you need to sleep and so drugs the livin' crap out of you! And so you're hollerin' and hollerin' for someone to come and shake you awake, but you can't move and no one comes and you're…trapped…is that something you've ever had the pleasure of?—"

Silence.

"—No? Well, that's what you sentenced me to last night, bro. So thanks, I had a great night's rest, a long and horribly uninterrupted one! Now get the hell out of my way, or I swear to God, I will break your arm!"

Joe dropped his grip, dumb struck and horrified as to the consequences of his own actions.

Frank's outpouring hadn't anaesthetized the anger and hurt as he dipped to retrieve his helmet from the ground, donned it, remounted the bike and successfully kicked up the stand. Turning the key, he pulled the throttle back so aggressively that he instantly killed the engine. He cursed, grunted with aggravation and pounded the handlebars. Eventually, with a bang to the helmet, he got himself under control again. The engine roared into life and he left.

Joe stayed where he was, rooted to the spot and listening to the gradually distancing changing pitch of his brother's foot working its way through the gears as he accelerated away. Eventually he couldn't be heard at all, silence Joe's only companion. He returned to his spot on the porch steps and slumped down to stare desolately out across the lake, feelings of culpability searing a red-hot poker through his heart.

Eventually, he did the only thing he could do; he fished cell phone from his pocket and after the second attempt, selected Vanessa's number and hit green. She answered after only one ring.

"Hi Joe."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out and he had to stop trying for a while, his voice totally ensnared in his throat. He kneaded his forehead, and gritted his teeth, fighting back unsettling emotions that were threatening to spill over. His breath was coming in painful, short ragged bursts, which Vanessa must have been able to hear.

"What's wrong?…Joe?"

Joe inhaled noisily and willed himself to speak, having to make a concerted effort to keep his voice on an even keel. "Van, I did something dumb, something unforgivable – and I did it to Frank. I've made the biggest mistake of my life, and I don't know what to do about it. Help me. I think I've really damaged him."

"Oh baby! Don't panic, tell me what happened."

There came another deep tattered breath before Joe started talking.

*****

Nancy and Con had only been in the office for a little while when the 'hot phone' began to ring. Con looked up from the list of cars he was studying and locked eyes with his temporary partner.

"Well—" Nancy said, grabbing her bag from beneath the table and rummaging for the phone. "—This can only be about Frank's car, or, the Ford Fairlane."

"Either way, it's my turn to answer it," Con said and raised his palm. "Gimme!"

Nancy threw the handset and Con snatched it out of the air and pressed the green button. "Hello, John speaking."

"Hi John, it's Martin—"

"Martin?" Con asked, acting mystified.

"—Jackson…From the car dealership. You came out yesterday to view a Corvette with your daughter?"

"Oh yes! Sorry Martin, head like a sieve. Lucy is still interested in the car, would like to book a test drive if that's possible."

Nancy's eyes widened, her mouth forming a silent incredulous 'O', she obviously thought he was pushing his luck.

Martin was silent for a few seconds and came back with: "Erm, actually, we sold it. We knew it wouldn't be out on the lot for a long time, and someone snapped it up yesterday. We've got a couple of other nice rides she might be interested in if she'd like to come-on by again."

"Oh, that's a shame," Con said and held his thumb aloft to Nancy who clapped her hands quietly. Obviously Martin hadn't reported the theft to the police, confirming that he must be up to is neck in it. "I'll let her know, she might well take you up on your offer and drop over for another look."

Nancy made a thumbs-down sign this time and stuck her tongue out.

"Yes, please do John. I wasn't phoning about the Corvette though, it was about your search for a Ford Fairlane."

"Have you found one?" Con asked, sounding both surprised and enthusiastic.

"I have. I phoned a few contacts and we found a very nice one. A friend of a friend is selling it. He's owned it for some time, but now he's wanting to sell it on so he can start a new project."

"Is it a blue one?"

"Two-tone blue and white to be exact."

"And it's completely original?"

"Completely – well, when I say 'completely', it's got a modern CD/radio, but it's got this cover that you put over the front to make it like the original. But you need a sound system to attract the right kind of ladies. Like that blonde who came into the showroom. Boy, was she HOT! My blood pressure has been up ever since!"

Con had to jam his lips together to stop himself from laughing and give a few seconds to collect himself.

"John?"

"Yes, I'm still here, just excited."

"You and me both, she was a knockout."

Con cringed, mortified. "No! I didn't mean I was excited about—" he sighed and collected himself again. "—Never mind, yes, the car sounds like what I'm after. Is it at your showroom?"

"No, but I can give you a phone number and you can arrange to go and see it directly."

"That's sounds acceptable, can you give me his details?"

Martin gave Con the contact information, thanked him and rang off. Con disconnected the call at his end. "That man is a cad through and through!"

"A cad?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah, you know, a 'lounge lizard'!"

"A lounge liz…were you born in the 1920's Con?"

"I can't say what I really think because there's a lady in the room."

Nancy laughed. "You WERE born in the 1920's! What did Martin say?"

Con made his way to the kitchenette to switch the kettle on and outlined what Martin had said. He left out the part about Vanessa.

"Looks like another undercover operation," Nancy said, pulling two cups down from their hooks and setting them on the table before reaching for the coffee.

Con leaned against the counter. "Yep. Wanna take some more photographs, but from a distance this time?"

"The camera is all charged up and ready to go."

The phone on Fenton's desk started to ring.

"It's like Grand Central Station this morning!" Con said and walked through into the second office to snatch up the receiver. "Hardy, Riley & Sons."

"Hi Con, can you put Nancy on please?"

"Hi Vanessa. Yes, Nancy's here…is everything okay?" he asked, sensing an air about her that he couldn't put his finger on, she was anxious…apprehensive? No, it was more than that.

"Can you put Nancy on?" Vanessa repeated.

"Yeah, sure." He took the few steps through to find Nancy was heading in his direction having overheard, already with her hand out. Con put his fingers over the mouthpiece "It's Vanessa, she sounds…odd."

"Thanks." Nancy took it from him and pushed it to her ear. "Hi Van…slow down…no, slow right down, I can't understand you, you're babbling…what about Joe?"

Con watched Nancy as she started to make sense of what Vanessa had to say. She was completely silent and still, not even nodding with understanding. Then all at once she started pacing and put a hand to her forehead, any contact she had with Con severed, he might as well have not been in the room at all.

"Jesus Van! What the hell was he thinking?…No, sorry I didn't mean that, he only did what he thought was right…yeah, I agree, totally unforeseen…I know, I know, I understand…Oh God!"

Then Con knew something was very wrong because she veered straight across the room and hunkered down into Frank's chair, the first person to have done so since he'd left the office that final time.

"Wait, Van," Nancy said next. She dropped the phone onto the desk, put her hands over her eyes and made a groaning noise.

"What's up, Girl?" Con asked.

Nancy didn't answer, but did come out from behind her hands and look back at him. She was pale and her eyes were watering. She looked helpless, vulnerable, unlike her usual strong self.

"Drew?" he asked again, even more concerned and went to pick the phone up, but Nancy beat him to it, snatching it.

"Van—" she said again. "I'm so busted, so so busted. This'll be the end to me and Frank." She stood and started pacing again.

"What the hell's happened?" Con wondered for the millionth time.

"No, I do think so Van, this is the end of the road. Frank's probably on his way back and when he finds out I didn't go to River Heights after all, that'll be it…no, you don't get it Van, there's a thin line between interference, concern and downright betrayal and Joe and me have stepped well over that line and into deceit, at least in Frank's mind. And we were the ones he trusted the most!" She was starting to shake, the hand holding the phone turning bone white. "What am I going to do? What's Frank going to do?"

Con didn't like where this conversation was heading, or his friend's demeanour, so he took the decision to step into the breach. He stalked up to Nancy and yanked the phone from her fingers wrapping his free arm around her at the same time and drawing her close. "She'll call you back, Vanessa," he barked.

"But—"

"No, I said she'll call you back when she's calmed down. Give us five minutes, Van, okay?"

"Okay."

He cut the call and turned his attention back to Nancy. "What's goin' down, Nancy?"

"Me, by the sounds of it!" Nancy said; her voice muffled by his bicep where her face was buried. She was crying, he could feel tears drenching his shirt.

"Hey, c'mon, girl!" Con said. He was so crap in these situations: women were such a mystery! "Why do they always leak, even the tough ones like Nancy?" He placed the receiver down on the counter next to the kettle and put both arms around her, trying so hard to be warm, protective and fatherly and wishing for the umpteenth time that he was better at this as his palm patted away. More than anything, he wished he was Fenton Hardy.

He must have been doing something right though, because her arms were suddenly encircling his middle and holding on.

Nancy sobbed for a while longer, making his shirt even wetter. Not that Con minded; he was more concerned about her than his cheap top. Eventually he manoeuvred her towards Fenton's chair, sat her down and dipped down in front. "Speak to me, Drew," he implored, passing her his handkerchief.

She gulped a couple of times and wiped her eyes, trying hard to get a grip on her emotions, eventually able to talk. "Joe did something to Frank which has blown everything out of the water. He didn't mean it to turn out as disastrous, but the damage is done and I don't know if it's reversible. Once Frank finds out I'm here…well—" she almost started crying again. "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologise to me. God Nancy, you've been bearing the weight of all this with Frank for weeks, and from what I can gather, almost single handedly. I'm surprised you haven't cracked yourself. A few tears are nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yeah, but look at the mess I've made of things so far."

"You haven't made a mess of anything! All you've done for Frank is what you thought was right and he hasn't helped, has he? If he dumps you over this, then he's the biggest fool I ever met, and I'll take you out instead."

That made Nancy laugh. "You'd be my sugar daddy—"

"—And what an interesting family dynamic that would make upon you introducing me to your dad!" Con laughed at himself and put his hand on her elbow to give it a gentle squeeze. "I'm not goin' to ask what Joe did, but go home Drew, go back to Joe's boathouse and hide out. If Frank shows up here, I'll feign innocence. He doesn't need to know, at least not until you want to tell him yourself. Go back to the boathouse and keep your head down until the clouds have passed and then turn up at Frank's apartment like you've flown back from River Heights."

"I can't do that—"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm supposed to be supporting you—"

"You can get that idea out of your head. Some things are more important. I can do this alone."

Nancy wiped her eyes again. "I think Frank's the one…you know?"

"Yeah, I sorta figured that. Get goin', Drew." He stood and went to get her coat from its peg. "I'll phone Fenton to let him know what I'm doing and I'll have Collig give me some back up, he owes me a favor or three. Consider yourself on sick leave, starting right now." He twisted his features into a stern look; confident he was giving her one of those paternal stares that Fenton was so great at.

"Will you phone me and let me know how it went with the Ford Fairlane?"

"Of course I will. Now go."

Nancy jumped up and grabbed her purse before running towards Con to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, nearly bowling him over. "Thanks Con, you're a real friend!" she said. "I don't know why you haven't got a girlfriend!" Was her parting comment as the door shut after her.

"Who said I haven't got a girlfriend?" Con muttered aggrieved, hands wide. "Just cause I don't talk about my private life doesn't mean I don't have one...sheesh!"

Almost immediately, the phone rang again.

"Hi Vanessa."

"Is she okay?" Vanessa asked, her voice tight.

"Vanessa, if you start blubbering as well, I'm hanging up and leaving the country!"

Despite the situation, Vanessa did giggle.

"Yeah, Nancy's okay and don't worry, she didn't let on what Joe did, but I know whatever it was, it with the best of intentions and with his heart in the right place. She's on her way over to the houseboat – is that where you are?"

"Yeah."

"Good. When she gets there, hide her. I'll put Frank off the scent if he appears."

"Joe isn't certain Frank's even coming home. He took off, didn't say where he was heading."

"Where's Joe?"

"On his way back, trying to catch up to Frank."

The phone on Con's desk started to ring. "There's the other phone now. It's crazy busy this morning!" He ended the call with Vanessa and picked up the next call. "Hello."

"Is that Con Riley?" asked a male voice.

"Yep, and you are?"

"Carson Drew."

Con didn't respond at first.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hi Mr Drew. Are you after Nancy, only she's not here at the moment, she's…uh…gone home…uh…sick? You could probably get her on her cell."

"What's wrong with her?"

Silence.

"It was you I wanted to speak to actually. Fenton met with an accident last night, and…I was hoping you could have a chat with him; he's not making a good patient. He's supposed to be on 24 hour bed rest, but he keeps trying to get up."

Con pulled the receiver away and glared at it incredulously unable to get his brain around what was happening. He pushed it back to his ear. "What sort of accident?"

"Uh – a blow to the head?"

"A blow to the head!? How did that happen?"

Silence.

"Put Fenton on the line, Mr Drew."

He listened to the sound of Carson Drew presumably climbing some stairs. Then he heard a few footsteps and a door opening. From a distance he heard Carson's perturbed voice say. "Fenton, get back into bed!"

"Carson, I—"

"Just get back in - honestly! There's someone who wants to speak to you."

"Who is it?

"You'll find out."

The phone was passed across, and Fenton said, slowly and guardedly, "Helloooo?"

"Behave yourself, Flash. Do as Carson tells you or I'm telling Laura."

"Con?" asked Fenton in astonishment, and then as an aside to Carson. "Did you snitch to my partner?"

Con jumped in before Carson could answer him. "Yeah, he did, buddy. Did you hear what I said?"

"But Con, I'm so close to finding Bobbie, I can feel it in my bones. I can't lie uselessly around while she's out there!"

"You'll be feeling it in more than your bones if I tell Laura."

"Okay, okay! Man, you don't have to get quite THAT heavy!"

"What happened to you, anyway, buddy?"

"Disagreement with a cooking utensil."

"I had to ask, didn't I? Look, Fenton, sit tight for today, will ya? I'll probably be able to send Joe over to you tomorrow. He and Frank are due back in town."

"Oh? How's Frank."

"How should I know?" Con knew that wasn't entirely truthful, but really didn't know how Frank was. "All I know is that they're on their way back. Take it easy, Fen, yeah?"

"All right."

"And when you get back, I'm changing the job title on my business cards to Agony-Uncle-Con."