Falk wrenched his arm away in a tiny controlled movement, aware of the crowd behind them. Unsure who was there, who was watching.
‘For God’s sake, Gerry, what is it you want?’ He forced himself to stand in a way he hoped appeared relaxed. ‘If this is supposed to be some sort of blackmail, I can tell you right now that’s a non-starter.’
‘What? Jesus, Aaron. No. Nothing like that.’ Gerry looked genuinely shocked. ‘If I wanted to stir up trouble I’d have done it years ago, wouldn’t I? I was happy to let it lie. Christ, I would love to let it lie. But I can’t now, can I? With this? Karen and Billy both dead, him not even seven years old yet.’ Gerry’s voice broke. ‘Look, I’m sorry about the letter, but I needed you to be here. I have to know.’
‘Know what?’
Gerry’s eyes looked almost black against the bright sunlight.
‘If Luke had killed before.’
Falk was silent. He didn’t ask what Gerry meant.
‘You know –’ Gerry bit back his words as an officious woman wobbled up to inform him the chaplain needed to speak to him. Right away, if possible.
‘Jesus, it’s bloody chaos,’ Gerry snapped, and the woman cleared her throat and arranged her expression into one of martyred patience. He turned back to Falk. ‘I’d better go. I’ll be in touch.’ He shook Falk’s hand, holding it a beat longer than necessary.
Falk nodded. He understood. Gerry looked hunched and small as he followed the woman away. Gretchen, having soothed her son, wandered back to Falk. They stood shoulder to shoulder as together they watched Gerry go.
‘He seems dreadful,’ she said in an undertone. ‘I heard he was screaming at Craig Hornby in the supermarket yesterday, accusing him of making light of the situation or something. Seems a bit unlikely, Craig’s been his friend for fifty years.’
Falk couldn’t imagine anyone, least of all stoic Craig Hornby, making light of those three awful coffins.
‘Was there really no warning at all from Luke?’ He couldn’t help himself.
‘Like what?’ A fly landed on Gretchen’s lip and she brushed it away impatiently. ‘Him waving a gun around in the main street threatening to do in his family?’
‘God, Gretch, I’m only asking. I meant depression or something.’
‘Sorry. It’s this heat. It makes everything worse.’ She paused. ‘Look, there’s barely anyone in Kiewarra who’s not at the end of their tether. But honestly, Luke didn’t seem to be struggling any more than anyone else. At least not in a way anyone’s admitting seeing.’
Gretchen’s thousand-yard stare was grim.
‘It’s hard to know, though,’ she said after a pause. ‘Everyone’s so angry. But they’re not just angry at Luke exactly. The people paying him out the most don’t seem to hate him for what he’s done. It’s weird. It’s almost like they’re jealous.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of the fact that he did what they can’t bring themselves to do, I think. Because now he’s out of it, isn’t he? While the rest of us are stuck here to rot, he’s got no more worrying about crops or missed payments or the next rainfall.’
‘Desperate solution,’ Falk said. ‘To take your family with you. How’s Karen’s family coping?’
‘She didn’t really have any, from what I heard. You ever meet her?’
Falk shook his head.
‘Only child,’ Gretchen said. ‘Parents passed away when she was a teenager. She moved here to live with an aunt who died a few years ago. I think Karen was pretty much a Hadler for all intents and purposes.’
‘Were you friends with her?’
‘Not really. I –’
The clink of a fork against a wineglass rang out from the French doors. The crowd slowly fell silent and turned to where Gerry and Barb Hadler stood hand in hand. They looked very alone, surrounded by all those people.
It was only the two of them now, Falk realised. They’d also had a daughter once, briefly. She was stillborn when Luke was three. If they’d tried for more children after that they hadn’t succeeded. Instead they’d channelled all their energy into their sturdy surviving son.
Barb cleared her throat, her eyes darting back and forth over the crowd.
‘We wanted to thank you all for coming. Luke was a good man.’
