Murfey's Law Read online

  ‘Of course you can borrow the car!’ Jenny was delighted to see Lori looking so bright eyed and focussed. She gave her an enormous batch of cookies baked fresh at lunch time, and made her promise not to skip meals anymore.

  Lori didn’t believe she had been, but according to the doctor’s report to Zeb, and his subsequent report to Jenny this morning, Lori’s low blood sugar levels indicated she’d not been eating enough.

  Exercising more than she ever had done in the past decade, added to missing out on the perks of long boozy lunches with Max and his clients, meant her calorific intake had reduced dramatically. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. But mixed with the emotional stress Lori had yielded to, it was really no surprise she’d passed out on the discovery that her dead father was still ‘hanging around’ in the kitchen of the first person she’d ever met with the power to switch her on and off like a light bulb.

  No time to think about that now, Lori told herself as she climbed into the driver’s side of Jenny’s car. With any luck, and if he valued his life, Zeb would soon see to his task of sprinkling the ashes and Lori could move on, putting the whole ghastly event behind her.

  Making it to the solicitors with nearly half an hour to spare, Lori collected the seven envelopes and then decided on a whim to take a very long detour down to Fisherman’s Bay.

  The road south was quiet and she made it there in good time.

  Expectations rarely lived up to memories, but on this occasion, they surpassed it. The town had sprawled outwards and was now much bigger than it had been during her childhood. Lori noted with comforting pleasure though that key areas of nostalgic importance to her, had only increased in beauty with age.

  The old iron bridge, joining the north and south side of the town looked to have been recently painted.

  December 31st 1990, one of Lori’s first memories, and her first New Year’s Eve spent awake, Jack and Robin had taken her to the town street party, held on the bridge. Live bands played through the night and Lori recalled vividly watching with delight the bigger kids, the teenagers, jumping off the guardrails into the water below.

  The very middle of the town centre, on the south side, had now been pedestrianised, filled with flower beds and played host to smartly dressed tourists, slowly window shopping past little boutique stores selling everything from home wares to boat shoes.

  There was evidently more money in Fisherman's Bay now than there had been when Lori was younger.

  Spotting a twenty-four hour superstore and a late night office supplies warehouse on the edge of town, Lori jumped at the opportunity to stock up on underwear and things for her desk.

  With the boot of the car filled to bursting with bags of colourful clothes and accessories as well as enough stationery to sink a ship, Lori slid a brand new swivel chair and printer on to the backseat.

  Unable to resist, she also picked up some little boxes and pretty ribbons. It could very well be overkill but on seeing them, Lori had a spur of the moment idea to give the seven investors their notices tied to a box of Jenny's delicious homemade biscuits. A good first impression was essential, this was Max’s mantra before every negotiation meeting he and Lori attended. He also always added that it was the key to parting fools with their cash, but she chose to ignore this part. Hopefully the investors would see for themselves that she was in fact a sweet girl with only the best interests of the village in mind. Not a crazed nymphomaniac running around at night serving up corporal delights to the boys in blue.

  Just one more stop was required before Lori would head back up the coast.

  Seventeen Bayview Parade was a terrible anti-climax. All of the original houses in the street had been knocked down and replaced with something twice the size. As stunning as these new homes were, with their smooth steel lines and walls of tinted glass, they held no place in Lori's memory. Even the road itself, where she and the local kids used to ride their bikes and skateboards up and down all Sunday long, seemed uninviting now. Great high walls with equally tall electric gates kept the houses behind them closed off to the world outside. There was no chalk on the pavement and definitely no 'shared' basketball hoop anymore. There was no way the residents living here now would be able to name every single one of their neighbours, let alone their pets, if they even had any.

  She'd seen enough. Lori started the engine and stabbed blindly at the car’s radio panel. When the tuner hit a local rock station she twisted the volume knob up as far as it would go. She needed to clear her head.

  Somewhere between the turn off to Belbowie Beach and Scotts Lake the Police pulled out behind Jenny’s little white Honda.

  ‘For god’s sake!’ Lori yelled angrily at her rear-view mirror as the red and blue lights urged her to pull over. They better be pulling me over to apologise Lori thought, presuming it was Zeb and Jonah in a new patrol car.

  Outside, and away from the light pollution, it was pitch black. When a set of knuckles rapped on the driver’s side window Lori let out a little scream.

  ‘Yes? You have something to say to me?’ Lori shouted over the blare of the music, as she fumbled with the electric windows lowering all three others before she found the right one.

  ‘I said, turn the music DOWN.’ A huge pair of shoulders, and then a bald head appeared beside the door.

  ‘Oh! You’re not Zeb,’ Lori stated the obvious.

  ‘Sergeant Turner? No. But I get that a lot.’ The Officer flashed a sarcastic smile, displaying James Bond villain teeth.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lori clapped her hands together, ‘let's start again shall we?’

  ‘No. Let's start with licence and insurance shall we?’ Again with the teeth.

  Nervously rummaging in her bag Lori tipped most of the contents onto the passenger seat. Ah hah! ‘Here. Here is my licence, Officer…’

  He tapped the name tag on his shirt.

  ‘Officer Schroff. Oh Hey, isn’t your wife a teacher at the local primary school?’ Lori had heard the name mentioned frequently by the little children that gathered on the verandah at the end of each school day. More often than not it was in less than flattering terms.

  ‘My mother,’ he replied, as he wrote the details of Lori’s UK licence into his notepad.

  ‘Ah. Ok.’ No more small talk. Lori jiggled in her seat, she hadn’t stopped for a bathroom break since leaving for the solicitors a couple of hours ago.

  ‘Insurance?’

  ‘It’s a friend’s car.’ Lori jiggled some more. ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t have loaned it to me if it wasn’t insured.’

  ‘You’d be surprised. Wait here.’ The officer sighed impatiently and went back to his car.

  He reappeared at her window a few minutes later with a piece of paper. Lori was now almost writhing with the effort it took not to wet herself.

  ‘Our system’s down currently, so you’ll need to bring this, the insurance documents, and your licence again, to your local station within the next seven days.’ Officer Schroff passed the blue slip and Lori’s licence through the window.

  ‘Ok, yes, will do. Thank you!’ Lori took the card and paper eager to wind the conversation up as quickly as she could. Switching her weight from one thigh to the other wasn’t working. She needed him to hurry up and go away so that she could find a quiet spot to relieve herself.

  ‘Goodnight Miss James. Drive carefully, and remember, there are all sorts of creepy crawlies out in the bushes at this time of night, ha ha!’ He patted the roof of the Jenny’s car and returned to his own.

  Pretending to re-pack her handbag Lori waited for him to turn around and drive off in the opposite direction. When she could no longer see his lights she jumped from the Honda and disappeared into the bushes. Bugs or no bugs, she’d take her chance.

  Chapter Nine

  Place in screws - A, toward holes drilled - B.

  ‘Huh?’ Lori looked enquiringly at Bob as if hoping he could do better. He certainly couldn't do any worse.

  Maybe if
she held the drawing upside down and ignored the terrible translations she'd do better

  Nope.

  Bob got up and walked away, making Lori laugh. She wished she could do the same but determined not to be beaten by her new swivelly chair she threw down the instructions and picked up the hammer instead.

  Despite knocking on the last of the seven doors at gone nine-thirty last night Lori thought the cookie boxes had gone down reasonably well. Every one of the investors had been home, and all bar Mrs Westerly had accepted the meeting notices with courteous thanks. Lori had gone to bed tired but optimistic and wasn't going to let anything bring her down. Least of all a cheap import.

  From the corner of her eye Lori could see a rainbow of stationery beckoning her, piled high on the table beside the printer which was still in its box. It'd all have to wait though, including the legless chair, as the familiar clatter of the shop screen door demanded her attention first.

  ‘Oh hello there, Mr Kelly isn't it?’ Lori smoothed down her hair and gave the elderly gentleman her brightest smile.

  ‘Miss James, please call me Victor.’ The old man rested his walking stick and a jar of something golden on the counter to catch his breath.

  ‘Well, ok then, but only if you call me Lori,’ she laughed gently. He seemed so fragile her immediate instinct was to walk slowly and talk softly around him.

  Victor Kelly had been her final visit last night. Lori recalled that he lived in a magnificent federation house on a vast block at the end of the village. Despite it being pitch black by then, the gentle glow of light from the home had revealed a lovingly tended garden. Victor's well weathered skin was evidence that it was he who had the green thumbs.

  ‘I bought you this.’ His shaky hands picked up the jar and offered it forward. ‘It's honey. My honey in fact.’

  ‘Wow,’ Lori was intrigued, ‘you have bees?’

  ‘I do indeed,’ he laughed.

  Sharing a cup of tea together, sat on the back deck, Lori listened intently as her companion fascinated her with stories spanning half a century of beekeeping. It was hard to imagine dedicating more than half of your life to any one thing.

  Wounded in Vietnam in his early twenties, Victor explained how on his return he'd come to convalesce with his grandfather in Murfey's Beach. Here he'd learnt gardening and apiculture and used these hobbies as a way to keep physically mobile. Due to the severity of his injuries he was unable to work and when his grandfather died, leaving the family home in his sole care, he set about topping up his veteran's disability pension by selling honey at local markets. This was until six months ago. When Victor turned seventy-five and on his first fitness to drive medical, the doctor had taken his driver's licence away. Just like that.

  ‘So you see I'm in a bit of a fix, and I was wondering if there was any room for my honey on one of your shelves in there.’ He gestured to the shop.

  ‘Of course! I would love to help you out. I'll take whatever you have,’ Lori enthused. Whether she could sell it or not was another matter entirely. She didn't care though, she'd buy it all herself if she had to.

  Lori took Victor's skeletal hand in hers and squeezed ever so gently as they sat and finished their tea in silence.

  Pushing a wheelbarrow filled with jars of honey may have been an odd sight in another village, perhaps an odd sight in almost all villages. But not so it seemed in Murfey's Beach. Here the locals that Lori passed didn't bat an eyelid. Washing their cars or tending to their front gardens they just smiled and waved, bidding Lori a friendly G'Day as she puffed her way back towards the shop.

  It was only mid-morning and already beginning to get really very hot. Little heat wave lines were rising up from the asphalt and the bottoms of Lori's flip-flops, or thongs as she needed to learn to say here without giggling like a schoolchild, were sticking slightly to the surface of the road.

  She'd walked Victor very slowly home and he'd insisted on loading up his best barrow for her. He had apocalyptic stockpiles of his honey, all neatly labelled and lined up row after row in his pantry. Wheeling it would be easier he'd said. Taking just a few jars in a shopping bag for starters would have been even easier still Lori thought to herself, aware that sweat was now running uncomfortably down her stomach.

  Dragging the barrow backwards up the steps of the shop verandah Lori crashed through the front door with her delivery. She'd unload in a minute, first she needed something frozen.

  By the time Lori's stomach protested that it was past lunch she had displayed the honey, built the chair, and unwrapped all her stationery. She was busy installing the printer on her laptop when Jenny walked in.

  ‘Gluttony,’ was all she said, putting the platter she was holding down on to the kitchen counter with a silent ta da! The enormous silver serving dish was covered in appetisers.

  Lori salivated at the sight of the miniature pieces of edible artwork. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Gluttony,’ Jenny repeated. ‘One of the seven deadly sins. Which by the way, is the theme for our Orphan's Christmas.’

  ‘Our Orphan's Christmas?’ Lori was lost. She didn't know which to pick up on first. The fact Jenny was talking about a Christmas for Orphans or that she'd used the word our as though she meant hers and Lori's.

  ‘That's right my darling. I'm counting on you to not only give me your space, but also be my guest of honour.’

  ‘Uhhh...’ Lori was still none the wiser but couldn't concentrate on forming intelligible questions with such an amazing sight and smell assaulting her senses. Her stomach let out a roar of desperation. The ice-lolly she'd had for brunch hadn't cut it.

  ‘Try one,’ Jenny urged. ‘You know you want to.’

  With her mouth full of sweet caramelised salmon Lori gave Jenny a double thumbs up and squeezed her tightly.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Was all she could say once she'd swallowed and let her go.

  ‘So... that's a yes to Christmas?’ Jenny gave an excited jig.

  ‘I have no idea what you're on about, but to be honest I don't really care. These are unbelievable, so you've got my vote.’ Stuffing a tiny cup of hot crispy bacon and salty melted cheese into her mouth Lori pondered on whether seven deadly sins was an entirely appropriate theme for a children's Christmas party.

  ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you. Lorikeet, you will not regret this. It's been so long since I've entertained more than just myself for Christmas lunch this is the best present ever.’

  ‘Christmas lunch?’ Lori frowned.

  ‘Yes! Oh you silly goose, were you not listening? We're holding Christmas lunch here, in the store, for all my wonderful friends who don't have loved ones to be with on the most special day of the year.’

  ‘Ohhh!’ Lori felt somewhat stupid and so consoled herself with a bite-sized pesto tart.

  Those kind of orphans.

  After convincing Jenny she really couldn't eat the entire platter she turned her attention back to the laptop. With the printer now installed and the table looking more like a desk where real work got done Lori set about doing some real work.

  Multitasking between researching 'sell your own home' on the internet, and re-arranging the stock in the shop to a more logical layout Lori managed to accomplish a great deal in a relatively short space of time.

  A to-do list covering several pages now hung on the wall and Lori ticked off a few of its tasks with a satisfying flick of her new bright pink pen.

  Tomorrow she needed to get up early and scrub the place from top to bottom, it was far too hot to do it now, that way when she took the photos for her online advert and the large yard sign she was planning to order, the place would look like an investors dream. After her chat with Sara yesterday, Lori was convinced that the best way to go would be to market the place to the attention of wealthy city escapees. Older versions of Kristy and Simon were exactly what she needed and with the long summer school holidays just around the corner the village would soon be full of them.

  Leaflets. She needed to add leaflets to her to-do lis
t. Jenny would know for certain which of the houses in the village were holiday rentals about to be filled with a captive audience.

  High pitched voices and squealing laughter outside alerted Lori to the fact that school must be over for the day. Perfect timing. Her youngest customers could help her complete another of her to-do tasks.

  ‘Good afternoon you lot,’ Lori greeted the group of shiny red faces at the front door with a cheery smile.

  ‘Good afternoon Miss James,’ they sung back in conditioned unison.

  ‘Now, firstly, call me Lori, please. And secondly, how do you all fancy earning yourselves a free ice-lolly?’

  It was a silly question really.

  During her earlier reorganisation of the shop Lori had come across her father's list of wholesale suppliers and with a little searching on the internet she'd discovered most of them had online ordering.

  Using her band of sweet-toothed sidekicks she had them gather round her laptop and help, as expert advisors, to place orders for all new sweets and ice creams. The fishing bait would be thrown out, to make room for more appealing frozen delights and the old fashioned sweets on the shelves below the counter would make way for sour worms, red frogs, gummy teeth and about a dozen more varieties all picked by the people that would be enjoying them.

  It took just fifteen minutes to spend several hundred dollars. Money well spent the kids assured her when they were leaving, freebies in hand.

  Tuesday night meant it was Youth Club night and not wanting to be around when Zeb and Jonah showed up Lori asked Jenny to shop sit while she went for a swim before it got too dark.

  Too hot and claustrophobic to wear anything more than the bare minimum Lori located the best fitting bikini she had. Glancing at her face in the mirror she noticed how a little sun had really warmed her skin and lightened her hair. Tightening the spaghetti strings on the pale yellow bikini and retying her long messy blond hair she headed downstairs.