‘They’re not crash hot about me coming in here generally,’ Raco said with a note of regret as he put two beers on the table at the Fleece. It lurched lopsidedly under the weight, slopping a centimetre of liquid over the scratched surface. He had been home to change out of his uniform, and had returned with a thick file labelledHadlerunder his arm. ‘I’m not great for business. Everyone always has to make a big show of putting their car keys away.’
They glanced over at the barman. It was the same large bearded bloke from the night before. He was watching them over the top of a newspaper.
‘Policeman’s lot. Cheers.’ Falk raised his glass and took a long swallow. He’d always been able to take or leave the booze, but at that moment he was glad of it. It was early evening quiet in the pub and they were holed up alone in a corner. On the far side of the room three men stared with bovine blankness at greyhound racing on the TV. Falk didn’t recognise them, and they ignored him in turn. In the back room, the poker machines blinked and whistled. The air conditioning was blowing Arctic cold.
Raco took a sip. ‘So what now?’
‘Now you tell Clyde you’ve got concerns,’ Falk said.
‘I go to the Clyde cops now, it’ll send them straight into arse-covering mode.’ Raco frowned. ‘You know what’ll be going through their heads if they think they’ve stuffed this up. They’ll make a gymnastics team, bending over backwards to prove their investigation was sound. I know I would.’
‘I’m not sure you’ve got a choice. Something like this. It’s not a one-man job.’
‘We’ve got Barnes.’
‘Who?’
‘My constable at the station. So that’s three of us.’
‘That’s only two of you, mate,’ Falk said. ‘I can’t stay.’
‘I thought you told the Hadlers you would.’
Falk rubbed the bridge of his nose. The pokies behind him clanged more loudly. He felt like the noise was inside his head.
‘For a couple of days. That means one or two. Not for the duration of an investigation. An unofficial one at that. I’ve got a job to get back to.’
‘Fine.’ Raco spoke like it was obvious. ‘Stay for the couple of days then. It doesn’t have to be anything on the books. Do what you said you’d do on the money side. As soon as we get something solid, I’ll go to Clyde.’
Falk said nothing. He thought about the two boxes of bank statements and documents he’d taken from the Hadlers’ place that were now sitting upstairs on his bed.
Luke lied. You lied.
He picked up their empty glasses and took them back to the bar.
‘Same again?’ The barman hauled his bulk off a stool and put his newspaper down. He was the only person Falk had seen working in the place since yesterday.
‘Listen,’ Falk said as he watched a clean glass put under the tap. ‘That room I’m in. Likely to be available a bit longer?’
‘Depends.’ The barman set one beer on the counter. ‘I’ve been hearing one or two whispers about you, my friend.’
‘Have you.’
‘I have. And while I welcome the business, I don’t welcome trouble, see? Tricky enough running this place as is.’
‘The trouble won’t come from me.’
‘Just comes with you?’
‘Not much I can do about that. You know I’m police, though?’
‘I did hear that, indeed. But out here in the sticks at midnight with a few boozed-up fellas looking for aggro, those badges mean less than they should, you get me?’
‘Fine. Well. Up to you.’ He wasn’t going to beg.
The barman put the second glass on the counter with a half-smile.
‘It’s all right, mate. You can untwist your knickers. Your money’s as good as the next man’s and that’s good enough for me.’
