From what Falk could see, Charlotte was fast asleep.
“Barb.” Falk leaned in over the child to give the woman a hug. “It’s so good to see you.” She held him for a long moment, her plump arm around his back, and he felt something in him relax a fraction. He could smell the sweet floral notes of her hairspray. It was the same brand she’d used when she was still Mrs. Hadler to him. They moved apart, and he was able to look down at Charlotte properly for the first time. She looked red-faced and uncomfortable, pressed against her grandmother’s blouse. Her forehead was creased into a tiny frown that, Falk noticed with a jolt, reminded him uncannily of her father.
He stepped into the light of the hallway, and Barb looked him up and down, the whites of her eyes turning pink as he watched. She reached out and touched his cheek with the warm tips of her fingers.
“Just look at you. You’ve barely changed,” she said. Falk felt illogically guilty. He knew she was picturing a teenage version of her son next to him. Barb sniffed and wiped her face with a tissue, shredding little flecks of white onto her top. She ignored them and with a sad smile gestured for him to follow. She led him down a hallway lined with framed family snaps that they both studiously ignored. Gerry trailed in their wake.
“You’ve got a nice place here, Barb,” Falk said politely. She had always been scrupulously house-proud, but looking around now he could see the odd sign of clutter. Dirty mugs crowded a side table, the recycling bin was overflowing, and stacks of letters stood unopened. It all told a tale of grief and distraction.
“Thank you. We wanted something small and manageable after—” She hesitated for a beat. Swallowed. “After we sold the farm to Luke.”
They emerged onto a deck overlooking a tidy patch of garden. The wooden boards creaked beneath their feet as the night soaked some of the ferocity out of the day’s heat. All around were rosebushes that were neatly pruned, but very dead.
“I tried to keep them alive with recycled water,” Barb said, following Falk’s gaze. “Heat got them in the end.” She pointed Falk to a wicker chair. “We saw you on the news; did Gerry tell you? A couple of months ago. Those firms ripping off their investors. Stealing their nest eggs.”
“The Pemberley case,” Falk said. “That was a shocker.”
“They said you did well, Aaron. On TV and in the papers. Got those people’s money back.”
“Some of it. Some of it was long gone.”
“Well, they said you did a good job.” Barb patted his leg. “Your dad would’ve been proud.”
Falk paused. “Thanks.”
“We were sorry to hear he’d passed. Cancer is a real bastard.”
“Yes.” Bowel, six years ago. It hadn’t been an easy death.
Gerry, leaning against the doorframe, opened his mouth for the first time since Falk arrived.
“I tried to keep in touch after you left, you know.” His casual tone failed to hide the note of defensiveness. “Wrote to your dad, tried calling a couple of times. Never heard anything back, though. Had to give up in the end.”
“It’s OK,” Falk said. “He didn’t really encourage contact from Kiewarra.”
An understatement. They all pretended not to notice.
“Drink?” Gerry disappeared into the house without waiting for an answer and came out a moment later with three tumblers of whiskey. Falk took his in astonishment. He had never known Gerry to drink anything much harder than a light beer. The ice was already melting by the time the glass was in his hand.
“Cheers.” Gerry tilted his head back and took a deep swallow. Falk waited for him to wince. He didn’t. Falk took a polite sip and set the glass down. Barb looked at hers in distaste.
“You shouldn’t really be drinking this stuff around the baby, Gerry,” she said.
“Crying out loud, love, the kid doesn’t care. She’s dead to the bloody world,” Gerry said, and there was a horrible pause. Somewhere in the inky garden the nocturnal insects rattled like white noise. Falk cleared his throat.
“How are you coping, Barb?”
She looked down and stroked Charlotte’s cheek. Shook her head, and a tear dropped onto the little girl’s face. “Obviously,” Barb began, then stopped. She blinked hard. “I mean, obviously Luke didn’t do it. He would never have done this. You know that. Not to himself. And certainly not to his beautiful family.”
Falk glanced at Gerry. He was still standing in the doorway, glaring down into his half-empty drink.
Barb went on. “I spoke to Luke a few days before it happened. And he was completely fine. Honestly, he was normal.”
Falk couldn’t think of anything to say, so he nodded. Barb took it as a sign of encouragement.
“See, you understand, because you really knew him. But other people round here. They’re not like that. They just accept what they’re told.”
Falk stopped himself from pointing out that he hadn’t seen Luke in five years. They both looked up at Gerry, who continued to examine his drink. No help to be found there.
“That’s why we were hoping”—Barb looked back, hesitating—“I was hoping you’d help us.”
Falk stared at her.
“Help you how exactly, Barb?”
“Well, find out what really happened. To clear Luke’s name. And for Karen and Billy. And Charlotte.”
At that she started rocking Charlotte in her arms, stroking her back, and making soothing noises. The baby still hadn’t moved.
“Barb.” Falk leaned forward in his chair and placed his palm on her free hand. It felt clammy and feverish. “I am so sorry for what’s happened. To you all. Luke was like a brother back then, you know that. But I am not the right person for this. If you’ve got concerns you’ve got to go to the police.”
“We’ve come to you.” She removed her hand. “You’re the police.”
“The police who are equipped to deal with this sort of thing. I don’t do that anymore. You know that. I’m with the financial side now. Accounts, money.”
“Exactly.” Barb nodded.
Gerry made a small noise in his throat. “Barb thinks money troubles may have played a part.” He’d aimed for a neutral tone, fallen well shy.
“Yes. Of course I do,” she snapped. “Why is that so unbelievable to you, Gerry? Talk about burning a hole. If Luke had a dollar, he’d spend two to make sure it was gone.”
Was that true? Falk wondered. He’d never known Luke to be too keen to put his hand in his pocket.
Barb turned back to face him. “Look, for ten years I thought we’d done the right thing selling the farm to Luke. But these past two weeks I’ve done nothing but worry we saddled him with a burden that was too much. With the drought, who knows? Everyone is so desperate. He might well have borrowed money from someone. Or had bad debts he couldn’t pay. Maybe someone he owed came looking for him.”
A silence stretched out. Falk found his glass of whiskey and took a decent swallow. It was warm.