‘Maybe you could tell us again about that day, Mal. Please.’ Raco’s voice was calm but firm. The sergeant had a good career in front of him, Falk thought – if this case didn’t kill his enthusiasm stone dead before it really started.
‘Nothing to tell. I was round the side of the house fixing that fence and I see Luke Hadler’s ute come up his driveway.’
Deacon sounded more alert than Falk had ever heard him, but his words had the sing-song quality of a story memorised rather than remembered.
‘Hadler comes and goes all the time, so I pay no attention to it,’ Deacon went on. ‘Then I hear a shot from down their farm. I go inside my house. Then a bit later there’s another shot.’
‘Did you do anything?’
‘Like what? It’s a bloody farm. Something gets shot every day. How was I to know it was that woman and her kid?’
Falk could picture Deacon shrugging.
‘Anyway, I told you before, I wasn’t paying attention, was I? ’Cause I was on the phone.’
There was a shocked silence.
‘What?’
Falk heard his own confusion echoed in Raco’s tone. There had been no mention of a phone call in Deacon’s statement. Falk knew. He’d read it enough times.
‘What?’ said Deacon, seemingly unaware.
‘You took a phone call? During the shootings?’
‘Yeah,’ Deacon said. ‘I told you.’ But his voice had changed. He sounded less sure.
‘No, you didn’t,’ Raco said. ‘You said you went inside and that’s where you heard the second shot.’
‘Yeah, I went insidebecausethe phone was ringing,’ Deacon said, but he hesitated. His voice was slower now, and he stumbled a little over the final word. ‘It was the bird from the pharmacy calling to tell me my prescription was ready.’
‘You were on the phone to a woman from the pharmacy when you heard the second shot?’ Raco asked, his disbelief evident.
‘Yeah,’ Deacon said, sounding not at all certain. ‘I was. I think I was. ’Cause she asked what that bang was and I said it was nothing, farm stuff.’
‘Were you on your mobile?’
‘No. Landline. I get a crap signal on the mobile up there.’
There was another silence.
‘Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?’ Raco asked.
There was a long silence. When Deacon spoke again he sounded like a little boy.
‘I don’t know why.’
Falk knew. Dementia. In the storeroom, he leaned his forehead against the cool wall. On the inside he was shouting with frustration. Through the vent he heard a tiny cough. When the lawyer spoke she sounded pleased.
‘I think we’re finished here.’
Chapter Thirty-one
Raco kept Deacon in the interview room for another twenty minutes, quizzing him about the damage to Falk’s car, but it was a lost cause. He eventually let the old man leave with a warning ringing in his ears.
Falk took the keys to the police car and waited behind the station house until Deacon drove away. He gave it five minutes then slowly drove the route to Deacon’s property. Along the way, the fire warning sign advised him the danger was still extreme.
He turned at a faded sign pointing to the ambitiously named Deacon Estates and rumbled along a gravel driveway. A few ragged sheep raised their heads hopefully as he drove past.
