Noah's Law

by Randa Abdel-Fattah

I laughed. ‘I told you, perfect right-angle staples.’

  She hit me again. ‘That’s for pulling my leg.’ She hit me again. ‘And that’s for making me think I was going to lose my Homebake tickets.’

  ‘If those punches are all you’ve got, I might get used to pulling your leg. Mosquito bites would have more impact.’

  ‘Shut it, smart-arse,’ she said. ‘I’m turning left here. See you tomorrow. Try and grow up overnight.’

  ‘Putting it off for as long as possible.’

  I called Amit from the train. He was bored at home and agreed to meet me at the nearest train station to my mum’s house. We were having dinner at her place since Dad would be working back late. He was going to pick us up after he’d finished.

  Amit was waiting for me on the platform when my train pulled in.

  ‘What’s for dinner?’ he asked immediately.

  ‘Weren’t you home all day stuffing your face?’

  ‘Yeah. So? I wanna stuff my face some more. What’s your mum making? Please don’t tell me it’s an organic salad. That stuff killed me last time. I ended up gorging when I got home.’

  ‘Tofu lasagna.’

  We headed out to the main street.

  ‘Will I survive?’

  ‘No guarantee.’

  In fact, Amit ended up spending a chunk of time in the toilet. When he finally joined me in the rumpus room, he was grinning sheepishly. ‘It was the tofu. Boy did it go through me fast.’

  ‘That’s funny coming from somebody who eats curry three times a day.’

  He rubbed his stomach. ‘I’m still hungry. I need meat. Real food. You need to kill an animal to fill me up.’

  ‘Don’t challenge vegetarianism in this house. I won’t take any responsibility for what happens if she hears you.’

  He sat down near me. ‘So any interesting cases at work?’

  ‘Nah. Just that one where the woman got killed. The rest are pretty dry.’

  ‘Oh yeah. Well those photos of her mashed up head were pretty awful.’

  ‘I forgot to tell you. She used to live near here. Couple of streets away. I saw it on the file. Bit of a weird coincidence.’

  ‘Serious? We should go round. Check out her house.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I need an excuse to go to the corner shops and get me an animal to eat.’

  I laughed. ‘Are you really that hungry?’

  His expression was tortured. ‘Yes,’ he groaned. ‘No disrespect to your mum but that was the worst lasagna I’ve ever tasted. Do I need to spell it out?’

  I stood up. ‘Okay, okay, keep the details to yourself. Let’s go then.’

  We told Mum we were going to the shops for some ice cream.

  ‘Make sure there’s no animal fat in the ingredients!’ she called as we walked out the door.

  I remembered Bernie’s address. I’d passed the street many times before. Amit insisted on getting his kebab first so we got that out of the way then went to Bernie’s house and stood two houses down from it, across the road. There was a car parked in Bernie’s driveway. Large palm trees lined the shabby front garden, and the driveway and the lawn were covered in red seeds and palm leaves.

  ‘It’s a bit spooky, isn’t it?’ I asked, staring at the single- storey brick home.

  ‘Yeah, a little,’ Amit said, wiping the grease from his mouth. ‘Especially after seeing the photos of her.’

  ‘If I was him I’d move. It’d be so hard to go on living there.’

  ‘But she didn’t die there.’

  ‘So what? The house would still remind him of her all the time. I couldn’t handle it.’

  ‘Maybe he can’t afford to move. Or maybe he’s coping alright. Not everybody falls apart after somebody dies. Come on, this is boring. Let’s go.’

  ‘Wait, look – a car’s pulling into the driveway.’

  I continued staring as the car door opened and a woman stepped out. She took a small mirror out of her bag, applied some lipstick, ruffled her hair and then headed to the front door. She knocked. Moments later the door was opened by Bernie. They embraced and Bernie gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. They went inside and the door closed behind them.

  ‘What the . . .?’

  I was quiet for a few moments. Then I asked, ‘Would you say that was a girlfriend/boyfriend kind of kiss or a just-friends kind of kiss?’

  Amit scowled at me. ‘Do I look like the kind of guy who gets to kiss girls? You don’t have to rub it in.’

  ‘You can still make an educated guess. Movies have taught you that much.’

  ‘Well I’d say it was a girlfriend/boyfriend kind of kiss.’

  ‘Hmm . . . but it was almost a peck. Not quite a kiss. Maybe she’s his sister?’

  Amit pretended to barf. ‘You’re gross! His sister?’

  ‘Some families are weird like that. Angelina Jolie kissed her brother on the lips at the Oscars.’

  ‘No kidding?’

  ‘Yeah, Nadine told me. It was in one of her magazines.’

  ‘Angelina Jolie . . . she makes me drool . . .’

  ‘Yeah, I know. So it isn’t totally impossible, is it?’

  ‘That woman was no Angelina Jolie,’ Amit said. ‘I’d rule out the sibling connection. It’s perverted even if your sister does look like Angelina Jolie. Anyway, why does this matter? Can we go now?’

  ‘Yeah, okay.’

  I took a last glance at Bernie’s house. The curtains were drawn. It was still light and the sun wouldn’t go down for another hour. Something didn’t feel right. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that the woman wasn’t just some casual acquaintance. But she had to be, otherwise everything Bernie had said about being devastated by his wife’s death, missing her and never loving another woman, had been a lie.

  Back at Mum’s place, Amit went to the toilet (this time it was the kebab) while I drew up an evidence chart.

  ‘I’ve done an evidence chart,’ I told him when he returned.

  ‘You nerd.’

  ‘Dad does them all the time for his cases. He makes us do them at our hearings.’

  ‘Your dad is seriously one weird, cool guy.’

  I groaned. ‘Have him. Anyway, here it is.’

  Issue: Girlfriend/Boyfriend Kiss or Just Friends?

  Evidence in favour of GF/BF theory

  1. Woman fixed her hair and put on lipstick before she went into the house. Why would she do that unless she wanted to impress Bernie?

  2. Bernie looked nervous/slightly uncomfortable when he greeted her. Was he worried about being spied on by insurer?

  Evidence in favour of just friends

  1. Bernie seems genuinely messed up by his wife’s death and made his comments about never loving another woman etc.

  2. It was just a quick kiss. Nothing sexy about it.

  3. Women don’t wear lipstick just to impress. It’s also about ‘feeling good for yourself ’ (authoritative research based on my sisters and Mum).

  ‘What do you think?’ I asked Amit.

  ‘I’m going with the theory that Bernie couldn’t handle his wife’s death and hooked up with another woman to get through the lonely nights. A man has his needs.’

  ‘The expert talks.’

  Amit grinned. ‘Nobody has studied the theory of sex more than me.’

  ‘There’s something to be said for theory over practice.’

  ‘Yeah, it sucks.’

  We laughed.

  ‘I just can’t believe it, though,’ I said after a few moments. ‘You have to see him talking about his wife. He’s devastated. It just doesn’t make sense.’

  The next morning I told Jacinta what I’d seen and showed her my evidence chart.

  Her reaction was instant. ‘The pig!’

  ‘Should I tell Casey?’

  ‘Why? What difference does it make? He still deserves compensation. Just because he’s an idiot who obviously got over his dead wife fast doesn’t mean his case is bad.’

&nbs
p; We were sitting at our desks, next to each other. Jacinta was doing a research memo and I was typing up a witness statement John had written by hand. He’d apologised for the scrawl; he’d been taking notes while his client was telling him about his accident.

  ‘Don’t you feel that Bernie’s cheated us?’ I said as I held the paper up close to my face, trying to make out the words. ‘What the . . .? Seriously, John must have been over the limit when he wrote this. What’s this word?’

  She leaned close to me. ‘That . . .’ She squinted. ‘Is not English. No idea. Your guess is as good as mine.’

  I grinned. ‘John’s pretty cool. I’ll teach him a bit of a lesson.’

  She sat back against her chair. ‘What lesson?’ she asked.

  ‘Fun and games.’

  She laughed. ‘Just remember the distinction. School. Law firm. School. Law firm. Keep repeating it.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ I said, dismissing her with a wave. I turned and started typing again. ‘Anyway, back to my question. Don’t you feel that Bernie’s cheated us? He fed me a whole sob story about never being able to look at another woman and the rest of it. And there he is with a girlfriend and Maureen’s body probably hasn’t finished decomposing. You know one thing I can’t stand? Being made a fool of.’

  ‘Oh, like the way you’re about to fool John? Or all those people you’ve played pranks on?’

  ‘Exactly!’ I smiled at her proudly, as though congratulating her for getting my point.

  ‘You’re a hypocrite,’ she said.

  I shrugged. ‘There’s a difference between an innocent joke I’m going to play on John and what Bernie’s doing. Bernie’s a liar.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘But you’re still a hypocrite.’

  I hit the enter button and then leaned back, smiling at the screen.

  ‘Done.’

  She wheeled her chair beside me.

  ‘Okay, shove over, let me read the damage.’

  ‘I just played around with the words. When he notices I’ll tell him I was just making an educated guess because I couldn’t understand his writing.’

  ‘You are so lucky John is cool or you’d really have your aunt on your back.’

  ‘I choose my victims wisely.’

  My wife came rushing to the scene of the accident. She was stoned. The balcony had crashed and I was dying on the floor, crying out in agony. I called out to my wife, ‘Ana, Anal,’ but she was screaming. Apparently I had blood all over my right keg. I deny that I had been winking to the point of being drunk. I had a couple of cocktails but that was all. The fact is the balcony was faulty, defected. I was not to lame. We’d been complaining to the landlord for some lime. All our complaints had gone ignorant. If the landlord had attended to mixing the problems, the balcony would not have collapsed and I would not have suffered perjury.

  It went on for the rest of the page. Jacinta sat next to me, laughing.

  ‘It’s not my best work,’ I said.

  She wheeled her chair back in front of her computer. ‘Let me know John’s reaction.’

  I left the document on John’s chair, choosing to drop it off when I knew he was out of his office. When he returned I didn’t hear from him. I wondered why and was a little worried I’d misjudged him. Maybe he was uptight after all. But Jacinta reassured me that he’d probably put the draft in his in-tray to look at later.

  When he finally got round to looking at the document the whole office knew. He opened the door, stood in the doorway, roared with laughter and then cried, ‘Good one, Noah!’

  Casey had a three-day trial in the District Court so I didn’t see much of her for the rest of the week. Jacinta and I were spending more time together. Hanging out at lunch, mucking around while we slaved over the photocopier machines. Sometimes . . . wait for it . . . there was even a bit of flirting.

  Okay, I admit, I was developing a bit of a crush.

  It wasn’t just about her looks. I’d gone out with girls before just because I was attracted to them. But with Jacinta it was more than her glossy hair, killer smile and good skin. She was smart, didn’t put up with my shit, knew who she was and what she wanted out of life. And even though she was sporty, she wasn’t one of those calorie-counting, chocolate-hating types who ate a carrot for breakfast, celery for lunch and snacked on wheatgrass. Those girls terrified me.

  ‘Want to walk down to Darling Harbour?’ she asked me one lunchtime.

  ‘Sure, why not?’

  ‘My flatmate has actually turned out to be normal,’ she said, as we walked along Market Street. ‘Doesn’t steal my food, pays the rent on time. It’s such a relief.’

  When we reached the bridge over the aquarium at Darling Harbour we stood against the ledge looking down at the water and crowds of people enjoying the summer heat.

  We were making small talk, talking about our parents and school and the usual stuff, when I suddenly stopped mid-sentence. ‘Hey, I know that guy!’ I said, squinting to take a better look.

  ‘Which guy?’

  ‘The tall one over by the ice-cream stand. Blue shirt.’

  ‘I see him. Who is he?’

  ‘Rodney Marks. He was Maureen White’s boss. The defendant in Bernie’s case.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jacinta said with a shrug. ‘Any more news on that case?’

  ‘Not that I know of . . .’ My voice trailed off as I stared at Rodney. A man was approaching him slowly. He stood with his arms folded, his chin tucked into his chest. I couldn’t make out his face.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Jacinta said. ‘We’re due back at the office in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Just a second,’ I whispered as the man raised his head. I couldn’t believe my eyes. ‘It’s Bernie.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘That guy talking to Rodney is Bernie White! The plaintiff is talking to the defendant.’

  ‘That’s unethical. Casey would have a fit.’

  ‘Why would Bernie go behind Casey’s back like that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jacinta said in a distressed tone. ‘But it’s so wrong. He’ll damage his case. What could he possibly hope to achieve?’

  ‘Maybe he’s trying to convince Rodney not to blame Maureen for what happened to her. They’re saying that as part of the defence. He was pretty upset about it all.’

  Rodney and Bernie were standing close to each other. It was obvious they were arguing.

  ‘We need to tell Casey,’ Jacinta said. ‘He’s compromised his case. Come on.’

  ‘You go. I’m hanging around here.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ she said, tugging my arm.

  ‘You’re employed. I’m there because my dad’s punishing me. They can’t fire me if I’m late back from lunch. I’ll make something up. Just go. But don’t tell Casey. Leave it to me.’

  She sighed. ‘Okay, fine. But don’t do anything stupid.’

  She left and I rushed down the stairs that led to the aquarium, making sure to keep my distance so that neither Rodney nor Bernie could see me. They were walking now, heading towards a café. They entered and chose a booth at the back. I snuck into a nearby booth. Lunch hour was drawing to a close and at first I couldn’t hear a word of Bernie and Rodney’s conversation as people left the café, chatting and laughing as they went. Finally, quiet descended and I could just make out some words.

  ‘. . . Webb guy . . . liar . . . silenced.’ That was Bernie’s voice.

  ‘. . . sorry . . . unexpected . . . insurer . . . tougher than . . .’ That was Rodney’s.

  I strained to hear the rest of their conversation but suddenly a group of happy tourists entered the café making a huge commotion as they joined two tables together for their large group. How annoying! Rodney and Bernie’s words were drowned out. Eventually, they left and I snuck out after them. But they split up, each going in a different direction.

  I decided to follow Bernie. He walked back to Market Street so fast I struggled to keep up. It didn’t add up. He was supposed to be so badly inju
red he couldn’t work at all, yet he was obviously fit and healthy.

  He turned down Clarence Street and went into the multi-storey car park. I waited outside, hiding in a doorway. The gates opened and Bernie’s car emerged. I did a double take. The woman who had gone to his house the other night was driving. Bernie had one arm swung over her shoulder and was caressing her neck. There went my just-friends theory.

  ‘Something just doesn’t feel right,’ I told Amit.

  ‘Well you’ve got the file now. Have you finished going through it?’

  When I returned from Darling Harbour the first thing I did was photocopy Bernie’s entire file and put it in my bag. I knew I was breaking the rules but there was no chance Aunt Nirvine would find out and I trusted Amit.

  Now Amit was at my house, ready and willing for me to bounce my ideas off him.

  ‘No. I’m still reading Webb’s statement.’

  . . . at approximately 4.45 pm I recall that the store owner, Rodney Marks, approached Maureen while she was standing at the front desk calculating the day’s takings and said, in words to the effect: ‘Hi, Maureen. Would you please deliver today’s takings to our Surry Hills store?’

  I recall this conversation as I was also standing at the front desk sorting out paperwork. I recall there were several customers still in the store and that they were all within earshot of the desk.

  I recall that Maureen replied in words to the effect: ‘Sure, no problem. Just as long as I leave at five sharp.’

  Rodney then said in words to the effect: ‘Thanks for that. Bridget will be waiting for you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night.’

  Rodney then left the store. It was approximately 4.50 pm. Some of the customers had left. I then turned to Maureen and said in words to the effect: ‘I can go with you to the other store if you like. It’s safer that way. But I have about another half-hour to forty-five minutes ahead of me here. Can you wait?’

  I recall Maureen said in words to the effect: ‘Unfortunately, I can’t. I just joined a new gym and tonight is my first Body Pump class. I’m really keen on going. If I miss this one, I’ll get lazy and probably just head straight home. Thanks for the offer though.’