idea who these dead pricks are.’
‘No. Didn’t do that.’
‘That’s the impression of the girl Gillam, who’s been shat upon by the branchstacker Orong, who rang Mr Larry O’Barry to complain.’
‘I told Kiely don’t name anyone,’ said Villani. ‘I didn’t say we don’t know who they are. Anyway, he was in the hands of Searle’s media expert. Cathy Wynn. Handpicked by Searle.’
‘So she told Kiely what to say?’
‘Well they tell you what not to say, don’t they?’
‘That’s better. I don’t know Cathy Wynn.’
On television, Anna Markham raised her chin and tilted her head a few degrees east. Good-looking women did that, it was in their genes, they had to do it.
‘Just come on board,’ said Villani, cold in his heart. ‘From the
Herald Sun
, possibly the fashion pages. They say recently seen going into Lake Towers in Middle Park with someone. Two-thirty in the pm.’
‘What kind of someone?’
‘Resembling a communications expert.’
‘That’s from?’
It came from an off-duty uniform via one of Birkerts’ squad.
‘I forget,’ said Villani. ‘Reliable enough.’
‘So the defence line is Homicide badly advised by said slut?’
‘We are not the defendant, boss.’
‘Moving on. Reconsidered passing this Oakleigh shit to Crucible?’
That impulse was gone. ‘No, sir.’
Colby put the phone down. Villani unmuted. Anna Markham was speaking:
…in Wangaratta today new state Liberal leader Karen Mellish rated water, health, public transport, economic mismanagement, public safety and police corruption as key issues for voters in this election…
The Opposition leader standing on the back of a truck, hair pulled back, check shirt and denims, a sea of hats in front of her.
…Labor’s brought this great state to its knees. They talk about being the party of working people. Rubbish. Party of the merchant bankers and the consultants and the investment advisors and the branchstackers, that’s what they are. It’s time to chuck them out…
Cut to the anchor, who said:
… Melbourne will tonight hear details of what its proposers call ‘a public transport revolution’ when a consortium headed by businessman Max Hendry outlines its plans at a function for city councils. Among the guests will be the premier, the leader of the Opposition and…
Villani muted, looked at what the computer offered on the current cases. It offered nothing except the blindingly obvious. He logged out, went back to the files, worked at the paper, the never-diminishing, self-replenishing paper, took calls, hoping for a call from Barry withdrawing the invitation. Maybe he should quit the job, take a package, he had the years. He could join Bob, use mysterious Indonesian oils to patch up horses, go to the races, look after the trees.
They had to think about thinning or it would be impossible to walk in some parts of the forest. Dig another dam too, it would rain again, sooner or later.
At 6pm, Stephen Villani took the pins out of the new blue shirt,changed into the new suit, dark grey, put on the tie, red, and the shoes, black with toecaps. He sat for a moment, head back, eyes closed, felt the weight of the day begun far away in the high country, before dawn.
VILLANI TOOK a glass of white wine from a penguin boy’s tray, looked at the crowd, all suits, men and women, walked around the rim of the crowded room. It was in the sky, windows all around, it offered the city, the bay, the hinterland, the meek hills, all gauzed in smoke.
‘Something of a view, is it not, Stephen,’ said Commissioner Barry.
‘Don’t often get this high, sir,’ Villani said.
Barry was drinking champagne. He looked different, shorter, his dark hair gleamed, his cheekbones glowed, there was moisturiser involved. ‘Nice suit,’ he said. ‘Also tie and shirt.’
His eyes went down. ‘Ditto shoes. That’s the way, Stephen.’
Villani felt a flush, he willed it away. He would not forget this moment, he felt like
‘No. Didn’t do that.’
‘That’s the impression of the girl Gillam, who’s been shat upon by the branchstacker Orong, who rang Mr Larry O’Barry to complain.’
‘I told Kiely don’t name anyone,’ said Villani. ‘I didn’t say we don’t know who they are. Anyway, he was in the hands of Searle’s media expert. Cathy Wynn. Handpicked by Searle.’
‘So she told Kiely what to say?’
‘Well they tell you what not to say, don’t they?’
‘That’s better. I don’t know Cathy Wynn.’
On television, Anna Markham raised her chin and tilted her head a few degrees east. Good-looking women did that, it was in their genes, they had to do it.
‘Just come on board,’ said Villani, cold in his heart. ‘From the
Herald Sun
, possibly the fashion pages. They say recently seen going into Lake Towers in Middle Park with someone. Two-thirty in the pm.’
‘What kind of someone?’
‘Resembling a communications expert.’
‘That’s from?’
It came from an off-duty uniform via one of Birkerts’ squad.
‘I forget,’ said Villani. ‘Reliable enough.’
‘So the defence line is Homicide badly advised by said slut?’
‘We are not the defendant, boss.’
‘Moving on. Reconsidered passing this Oakleigh shit to Crucible?’
That impulse was gone. ‘No, sir.’
Colby put the phone down. Villani unmuted. Anna Markham was speaking:
…in Wangaratta today new state Liberal leader Karen Mellish rated water, health, public transport, economic mismanagement, public safety and police corruption as key issues for voters in this election…
The Opposition leader standing on the back of a truck, hair pulled back, check shirt and denims, a sea of hats in front of her.
…Labor’s brought this great state to its knees. They talk about being the party of working people. Rubbish. Party of the merchant bankers and the consultants and the investment advisors and the branchstackers, that’s what they are. It’s time to chuck them out…
Cut to the anchor, who said:
… Melbourne will tonight hear details of what its proposers call ‘a public transport revolution’ when a consortium headed by businessman Max Hendry outlines its plans at a function for city councils. Among the guests will be the premier, the leader of the Opposition and…
Villani muted, looked at what the computer offered on the current cases. It offered nothing except the blindingly obvious. He logged out, went back to the files, worked at the paper, the never-diminishing, self-replenishing paper, took calls, hoping for a call from Barry withdrawing the invitation. Maybe he should quit the job, take a package, he had the years. He could join Bob, use mysterious Indonesian oils to patch up horses, go to the races, look after the trees.
They had to think about thinning or it would be impossible to walk in some parts of the forest. Dig another dam too, it would rain again, sooner or later.
At 6pm, Stephen Villani took the pins out of the new blue shirt,changed into the new suit, dark grey, put on the tie, red, and the shoes, black with toecaps. He sat for a moment, head back, eyes closed, felt the weight of the day begun far away in the high country, before dawn.
VILLANI TOOK a glass of white wine from a penguin boy’s tray, looked at the crowd, all suits, men and women, walked around the rim of the crowded room. It was in the sky, windows all around, it offered the city, the bay, the hinterland, the meek hills, all gauzed in smoke.
‘Something of a view, is it not, Stephen,’ said Commissioner Barry.
‘Don’t often get this high, sir,’ Villani said.
Barry was drinking champagne. He looked different, shorter, his dark hair gleamed, his cheekbones glowed, there was moisturiser involved. ‘Nice suit,’ he said. ‘Also tie and shirt.’
His eyes went down. ‘Ditto shoes. That’s the way, Stephen.’
Villani felt a flush, he willed it away. He would not forget this moment, he felt like
Similar Books
