“Grant Dow’s never seemed the Florence Nightingale type. Does he care for his uncle full-time?”
McMurdo grinned. “God, no. He’s a laborer. Does odd jobs, plumbing, bit of building. Whatever keeps him in beer money. But it’s amazing what the promise of a windfall does, eh? Deacon’s leaving the farm to him, or that’s the story, anyway. It could be worth a fair bit with those Asian investment groups always sniffing round for land. The drought won’t last forever. Apparently.”
Falk took a sip. Interesting. The Hadlers’ land backed onto Deacon’s farm. He had no idea what the market price would be, but two parcels together were always more valuable to the right buyer. Provided the Hadlers’ place came up for sale, of course. A scenario far less likely when Luke was alive and at the helm than it was now. Falk filed the thought away for future consideration.
“So is the grapevine accurate about you looking into the Hadlers’ deaths?” McMurdo was saying.
“It’s not official,” Falk said for the second time that night.
“Gotcha,” McMurdo said with a knowing smile. “Probably the best way to get anything done round here, anyway.”
“That said, anything happened that I should know about?”
“You mean did Luke have a massive bust-up the night before he died? Did Grant Dow declare in front of the entire pub that he was going to shoot the family in cold blood?”
“That would be helpful.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, mate.” McMurdo flashed a mouthful of yellowing teeth.
“Jamie Sullivan said he was in here with Luke the night before the killings,” Falk said. “Making plans to shoot rabbits.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Was Dow in here too?”
“Yeah, of course. He’s here most nights; that’s why he hates being barred. For all the good it does me. It’s more of an annoyance for him than anything. Too difficult for me to enforce, and he knows it. Whenever I try, him and his gormless mates plonk themselves on the porch outside with a stack of beers. I get all the trouble with none of the revenue, you know? Anyway.” McMurdo shook his head. “To answer your question, Grant Dow was here that last night Luke was in. Along with nearly everyone else, mind. The cricket was on TV, so it was packed.”
“Did you see him and Luke talk? Interact at all? Either of them have a go at the other?”
“Not that I remember. But like I said, it was a busy night. I was run off my feet.” McMurdo thought for a moment as he downed the last swallow of his beer and suppressed a small burp. “But who can say with those two? You could never tell from one night to the next what was going to happen. I know Luke was your mate and Dow’s a dickhead, but in a lot of ways they were quite similar. Both larger than life, got tempers on them, always had to be right. Two sides of the same coin, you know?”
Falk nodded. He knew. McMurdo took the empty glasses, and Falk took his cue to leave. He climbed off his stool and said good night, leaving the barman to switch off the lights and plunge the downstairs into darkness. As Falk half trudged, half tottered upstairs, his cell phone flashed with a new voice mail. He waited until he was locked in his room and lying flat on his bed before clumsily punching the buttons. He closed his eyes as a familiar voice floated from the handset.
“Aaron, answer your phone, will you?” Gerry Hadler’s words were rushed in his ear. “Look, I’ve been thinking a lot about that day Ellie died.” A long pause. “Come out to the farm tomorrow if you can. There’s something you should know.”
Falk opened his eyes.
18
The Hadlers’ farm looked different as Falk pulled up. The tattered yellow crime scene tape had been removed from the front door. On either side, the curtains and blinds were pulled wide, and every window was propped ajar.
The midmorning sun was already fierce, and Falk reached for his hat as he stepped out of the car. He tucked the box of Karen’s and Billy’s school things under his arm and walked up the path. The front door was open. Inside, the smell of bleach had eased a little.
Falk found Barb crying in the master bedroom. She was perched on the edge of Luke and Karen’s queen-size bed, the contents of a drawer upended onto the pale green duvet. Balled-up socks and crumpled boxer shorts mingled with loose coins and pen lids. Tears slid from Barb’s cheeks onto a piece of colored paper in her lap.
She jumped when Falk knocked gently, and as he went to her, he could see she was holding a handmade Father’s Day card. She wiped her face on her sleeve and flapped the card in Falk’s direction.
“No secret’s safe from a good clean-out, is it? Turns out Billy was as bad at spelling as his father.”
She tried to laugh, but her voice broke. Falk felt her shoulders heave as he sat down and put his arm around her. The room was stiflingly hot as sweltering air seeped in through the open windows. He didn’t say anything. Whatever the windows were letting out of that house was more important than anything they could let in.
“Gerry asked me to come by,” Falk said when Barb’s sobs subsided a little. She sniffed.
“Yes, love. He said. He’s clearing out the big barn, I think.”
“Did he say what it was about?” Falk said, wondering when, if ever, Gerry would see fit to confide in his wife. Barb shook her head.
“No. Maybe he wants to give you something of Luke’s. I don’t know. It was his idea to do this clear-out in the first place. He says it’s time we faced it.”
The final sentence was almost lost as she picked up a pair of Luke’s socks and dissolved into fresh tears.
“I’ve been trying to think if there’s anything Charlotte might like. She’s pining so badly.” Barb’s voice was muffled behind a tissue. “Nothing we do seems to help her. We’ve left her with a sitter, but Gerry actually suggested bringing her with us. See if being around her old things calmed her. There’s no way I’m allowing that, I told him. There’s no way I’m bringing her back to this house after what happened here.”
Falk rubbed Barb’s back. He glanced around the bedroom while she cried. Apart from a layer of dust, it was neat and clean. Karen had tried to keep the clutter under control, but there were enough personal touches to make the room inviting.