‘Yeah. It’s just a bit tricky looking after her sometimes.’
Luke nodded vaguely and Sullivan realised he was only half-listening.
‘That’s bloody women for you,’ Luke said. ‘At least yours can’t run around carrying on about God knows what anymore.’
Sullivan, who had never once in his life considered his gran to be in the same category as ‘women’, struggled to think of a response.
‘No. I suppose not,’ he said. He felt they had somehow strayed into uncharted waters. ‘Everything OK with Karen?’
‘Oh. Yeah. No worries.’ Luke levelled his gun, pulled the trigger. Better this time. ‘You know. Karen’s Karen. Always something happening.’ He took a breath as if to say something else, then stopped. Changed his mind.
Sullivan fidgeted. Definitely uncharted waters. ‘Right.’
He tried to think of something else to add, but his mind was blank. He glanced over at Luke, who had lowered his gun and was watching him. Their eyes met for a moment. The atmosphere had become decidedly uncomfortable. Both men turned back to the warren.
‘ “Always something happening”?’ Raco said. ‘What did he mean by that?’
Sullivan looked at the table miserably. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I should’ve asked, shouldn’t I?’
Yes, Falk thought. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It probably wouldn’t have made a difference.’ He didn’t know whether that was true. ‘Did Luke say anything else about it?’
Sullivan shook his head. ‘No. We got back onto the weather. Like always.’
An hour later Luke stretched.
‘I think that’s made a dent in them.’ He checked his watch. ‘Better make a move.’ He handed the spare ammunition back to Sullivan. They walked together back to the ute, any earlier tension now dissolved.
‘Quick beer?’ Sullivan took off his hat and wiped his face with his forearm.
‘No, I should get home. Things to do, you know.’
‘Right. Thanks for your help.’
‘No worries.’ Luke shrugged. ‘Finally got my eye in, at least.’
He put his unloaded gun in the footwell of the ute’s passenger seat and climbed in. Now that he’d made up his mind to go he seemed in a hurry to leave. He rolled down the window and gave a short wave as he pulled away.
Sullivan stood alone in the empty paddock and watched the silver ute disappear.
They mulled the scenario over in silence. By the window, Mrs Sullivan’s teacup rattled against the saucer as she placed it down on a pile of novels. She glared at it.
‘What happened then?’ Raco said.
‘A while later the Clyde police rang, looking for Luke,’ Sullivan said. ‘I told them he’d left a couple of hours earlier. The news was everywhere about five minutes after that though.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Probably about six-thirty, I reckon.’
‘You were here?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And before that, when Luke left, you did what?’
‘Nothing. Work. Here on the farm,’ Sullivan said. ‘I finished up outside. Had dinner with Gran.’
Falk blinked as his eye caught a tiny movement.
