THE FLAPPER'S FAN

Chapter 13 - Goofs and Flappers

I awoke to the pink tendrils of dawn sneaking around the curtain edges and crept back to my room. My bed was cold and lonely but exhaustion claimed me and the next time I opened my eyes Mrs Brewer was pulling back the drapes with a wide smile. I was glad I had remembered to slip on my nightgown and her demeanour indicated she had not deduced what had gone on in her absence.

"Come on sleepy head!" she goaded me. "I've eggs coddling downstairs, hurry up or you'll miss out."

I yawned and stretched. "Is Mr Burroughs up yet?"

She snorted. "Oh, he was up before I arrived and I only just got a sip of tea into him before he was out the door. He's a busy man." Pride was obvious in her voice.

"He did mention you'd spent most of the weekend off with friends. Did you have fun?" I spluttered in the middle of my yawn.

"Yes, I did have a lot of fun," I said in a strangled voice. She looked at me strangely, and then her face cleared.

"He told me he would leave work for you at the office, and he would see you there later to go over everything you had discussed on the weekend, he had a few new things to add he said."

I managed to keep a straight face but it was not easy. He was a wicked man!

Once at the office, I found he had been in and left me some papers, as he had advised Mrs Brewer. These were items for me to research regarding Grace's time in New York and Joe's observations from the past week of following her. I read them with interest. Grace had met with a strange dark-haired man on one occasion, however Joe had not been able to get close enough to hear what they were discussing. She had, however, appeared quite upset afterwards. On two occasions she had gone out to dinner, once more with John Murray which had not lasted past the entree before she stormed off and went straight home. The second was with an older woman (unknown) and this time it was the guest who left early, leaving Grace sitting at the table with her head in her hands. The papers Nick wanted me to research listed phone numbers for a number of journalists, a few studio contacts and a police officer, all located in New York. He wanted me to find out what they had heard about Grace and her relationship with Tony Belladonna. What I wouldn't give for the internet right now! I picked up the phone and began to make calls. By the end of the last one, an interesting story had begun to emerge.

I began typing up the report but it was not as easy as I expected. Firstly, Nick required three copies, which meant three pieces of thin typing paper, each with a piece of carbon paper between them. Secondly, the manual typewriter required the user to press very hard on every stroke or it didn't make a hard enough impression to press through all the copies, and if I tried to touch type too fast, the keys would get stuck and I would have to unjam them. I ended up with ink from the ribbon and carbon paper all over my hands and smeared onto the type-written pages and anything else I touched. When Nick finally walked in the door I was completely frazzled and he took one look at me and roared with laughter.

He disappeared into the little bathroom and returned with a wet face cloth. He sat in his chair and wheeled it over to me then taking my chin in one of his big hands he gently rubbed away the smudges on my face before kissing me softly on the lips.

"Hello there," he said with a half smile.

I felt as giddy as a teenager on a first date. I smiled back.

"Hi."

We sat grinning at each other like loons until the little bell above door heralded a visitor. Nick swung about on his chair and greeted the well-dressed young man who had entered.

"How can I help you?" Nick asked, indicating the man should sit, after they had exchanged greetings. From the time the man opened his mouth I could not understand a word he said, except perhaps "flapper". He spoke in an American accent and mentioned a "flap" with great "stilts" and something about her "goof", he said she was a "tomato" and I think he said someone was a "lallygagger" and there was some "wangdoodle". I'm quite sure he said "dropping the pilot" and "out on parole" but the rest of it flew right over my head. Nick nodded and took notes.

"Righto then," he said. "What's her name?"

I wasn't sure who "her" was, but the fellow gave Nick the details and Nick said we would follow her and see what she was up to. The man seemed more than happy as he replaced his hat and shook Nick's hand at the door. When he turned he saw my confused face.

"What on earth was that language he was speaking?"

Nick laughed. "That's how the chaps that hang out at the clubs talk, the flappers and their goofs, or sweethearts. In America at any rate. He is pretty sure his wife is seeing someone on the side, and he wants me to follow her to find out before he decides to divorce her."

"Well, I'm glad you speak American Flapper because if it had been me I would have had no clue!"

"He's probably worrying about nothing. I'll take the job though."

I frowned, thinking. "So how do you know so much about American nightclub slang Mr Burroughs?"

He looked away and coughed. "I've had reason to go there on assignment, before you arrived that was."

I sat up suddenly. "Perhaps he has heard something about Tony Belladonna and what happened with Grace?"

Nick looked surprised. "I should have thought of that." He stood and grabbed his hat then bent to give me a quick kiss. "I was distracted." With a wide smile he rushed out after the "goof" and I sat back and sighed. Be still my beating heart.