‘You officers are here about Luke Hadler, are you? Don’t touch those,’ she snapped as Raco went to move a pile of dog-eared newspapers from a chair. Her vowels carried a trace of an Irish lilt. ‘No need to look at me like that. I’m not completely daft yet. That fella Luke was round here then went off and did away with his family, didn’t he? Why else would you be here? Unless our Jamie’s been up to something he shouldn’t.’
Her laugh sounded like a rusty gate.
‘Not that we know of,’ Falk said, exchanging a glance with Raco. ‘Did you know Luke well?’
‘I didn’t know him at all. Other than he was friends with our Jamie. Came round from time to time. Gave him a hand on the farm.’
Sullivan came through carrying a tea tray. Ignoring his gran’s protests, he cleared a space on the sideboard and waved at Falk and Raco to sit down on the battered couch.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ Sullivan said, handing around cups. ‘It gets a bit tricky –’ He glanced towards his gran and turned his focus instead to the teapot. He had shadows under his eyes that made him look older, Falk noticed. But he had a confidence about him, the way he took stock of the situation and managed the room. Falk could imagine him away from all of this, wearing a suit in a city office somewhere. Making six figures and blowing half of it on expensive wines.
Sullivan finished passing out the drinks and pulled up a cheap wooden chair. ‘So what do you want to know?’
‘We’re tidying up one or two loose ends,’ Raco said.
‘For the Hadlers,’ Falk added.
‘Right. No worries. If it’s for Barb and Gerry,’ Sullivan said. ‘But look, the first thing I want to say, and what I told the Clyde cops, is that if I’d known – if there’d been any suggestion that Luke was about to go off and do what he did – I’d never have let him leave. I want to say that straight off.’
He looked down and fiddled with his mug.
‘Of course, mate, no-one’s saying you could have stopped what happened,’ Raco said. ‘But if you could run through it one more time that would be helpful. So we can hear for ourselves. Just in case.’
Rabbits, Sullivan told them. That was the problem. One of them, at least. Hard enough to get through the drought without them attacking everything worth eating. He’d been complaining in the Fleece the night before and Luke had offered to give him a hand.
‘Anyone hear you making the arrangements?’ Falk said.
‘Probably. I don’t remember specifically. But it was pretty busy. Anyone could’ve heard if they’d bothered listening.’
Luke Hadler pulled up at the entrance to the paddock and climbed out of his ute. He was five minutes early, but Jamie Sullivan was already there. The pair each raised a hand in greeting. Luke reached into the cargo tray for his shotgun and took the ammunition Sullivan handed him.
‘Come on, let’s get these bastard bunnies of yours,’ Luke said, flashing his teeth.
‘You supplied the ammo?’ Raco asked. ‘What kind?’
‘Winchester. Why?’
Raco caught Falk’s eye. Not the missing Remingtons then.
‘Did Luke bring any of his own?’
‘I don’t think so. My bunnies, my bullets, was my way of thinking. Why?’
‘Just checking. How did Luke seem to you?’
‘I don’t know really. I’ve gone over that in my head a lot since then. But I suppose I’d have to say that he seemed fine. Normal.’ Sullivan thought for a minute. ‘By the time he left, at least.’
Luke’s first few shots were poor, and Sullivan glanced over. Luke was chewing on the skin around his thumb. Sullivan said nothing. Luke shot again. Missed.
‘All right, mate?’ Sullivan said reluctantly. He and Luke tended to confide in each other as much as Sullivan did with any of his friends, which was to say hardly at all. On the other hand, he didn’t have all day to get these rabbits dealt with. The sun bored down on their backs.
‘Fine.’ Luke shook his head, distracted. ‘You?’
‘Yeah, same.’ Sullivan hesitated. He could easily leave it there. Luke shot and missed again. Sullivan decided to try to meet the man halfway.
‘My gran’s getting a bit on the frail side these days,’ Sullivan said. ‘Can be a handful.’
‘She OK?’ Luke said without taking his eyes off the rabbit warren.
