Truth by Peter Temple Read Free Book Online

three-thirty,’ said Bob.
    They sat on the shady side of the house. After a while, Villani said, ‘Why’s Gordon scared of me?’
    Bob wiped a beer tidemark from his upper lip. ‘Well, you know. People.’
    ‘What?’
    Bob frowned at the landscape. ‘You’ve got a manner.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Boss manner.’
    ‘Since when?’
    ‘Since a kid. Just got more so.’
    Villani could not believe that he had always had a boss manner. ‘No one’s said that.’
    ‘Be like telling a bloke he’s got red hair.’
    ‘Where would I get a boss manner from?’ said Villani.
    ‘Don’t look at me.’
    They sat drinking, Bob looking at his watch every few minutes. They heard the car, Bob was up, gone. Villani sipped beer and looked at the hills, row upon wavy row, greying now, darker in the foreground. He put the bottle on the table and got up.
    Luke got out of a black Audi, embraced his father, kissed his cheek. A woman got out, tall, dark hair pulled back. Luke saw Villani.
    ‘Steve. Been a while, mate.’ He had a tan, he’d lost weight, white shirt worn outside his pants.
    Villani stepped off the verandah. They shook hands.
    ‘This’s Charis, works with me,’ Luke said. ‘Charis, this’s my dad, best bloke on the planet, my brother Steve, he’s another matter entirely.’
    ‘Hi.’ Charis smiled, uneasy, offered a hand.
    She was young, a teenager.
    ‘You didn’t say Steve was coming,’ Luke said to his father.
    ‘Didn’t know. Beer time.’
    They sat on the verandah. Bob brought beers, glasses. Luke and the woman drank Crown from the bottle. Luke was a race-caller, all he ever wanted to be. He did all the talking, asked questions, didn’t hear the answers, gave answers himself. The woman giggled at everything he said.
    ‘Charis does T-WIN weather,’ he said. ‘Just a start, she’s going to be big-time.’
    Charis smiled, showed all front teeth, a for-the-camera smile.
    ‘Oh, Luke,’ she said.
    ‘How’s Kathy?’ said Villani. ‘The kids.’ There were two. He couldn’t remember their names.
    ‘Great, good.’ Luke didn’t meet Villani’s eyes. ‘Yours?’
    ‘Same, yeah.’
    A cough. Gordon McArthur, the neighbour’s son, approaching thirty, a fat twelve-year-old face, checked shirt beneath clean overalls.
    ‘Gordie, my man.’ Luke went to him, tapped his cheeks, hard, both hands. ‘How you doing, big fella?’
    ‘Good, Lukie, good.’ Gordie’s eyes were lit.
    ‘Charis, meet Gordie. Seen Charis do the weather, Gordie?’
    ‘Seen her,’ said Gordie. He didn’t quite look at Charis and she didn’t quite look at him.
    Villani’s mobile went. He stepped away, to the far end of the verandah.
    ‘Tried you a few times, boss,’ said Dove.
    ‘Comes and goes,’ said Villani. ‘What?’
    ‘Two things. One, got an HSV doing 130 on the Hume about 9.40 on the night of sixteen December. Driver is a Loran Alibani,address in Marrickville, Sydney, vehicle registered to him.’
    ‘That’s good. What shows?’
    ‘We’re waiting. Second thing, Prosilio now says it’s got no vision at all from the lifts and the parking, the basement, from Thursday 4.23pm to 8.55am Friday. Recording malfunction.’
    ‘This is shit. Happened before?’
    ‘That’s not clear,’ said Dove. ‘The company runs the electronic security for the building. Stilicho. They offer cutting edge, you expect bugs. It’s the first time they ran the full casino system and it sort of blew other bits. The CEO is blaming the techs, they’re not happy.’
    ‘How do you know that?’
    ‘Weber. He talked to people.’
    Villani was looking at the mountain. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘That’s an old-fashioned thing to do.’
    ‘He’s from the country,’ said Dove. ‘Manton says Prosilio management’s not responsible for Stilicho’s technical failures. He says talk to Hugh Hendry, he’s the Stilicho boss.’
    ‘Is that Max Hendry’s son?’
    ‘Don’t know, boss.’
    ‘Find out. And the other stuff?’
    ‘Running