Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(52)

“Great, thanks.” He nodded. “Yeah, so it was all a bit of a blur for a while, but at least it was fun, and then…” Shane paused. He shot a glance up at Falk, the faintest trace of humor in his face. “Then, I don’t know if you remember, but this one photo kind of surfaced of me in a pretty compromising—”

And just like that, all at once, Falk did remember. That’s right, that had been Shane McAfee. The image had been everywhere for five minutes, and all these years later Falk could instantly conjure it in his mind. Not the frequent photos of Shane stumbling red-faced and sweating out of a nightclub and into the early hours with a string of different women on his arm, or the few of him in front of an unidentified white powder smeared across a grubby glass coffee table, but that single very unfortunate one, involving a bottle of his own urine and a dare at a dinner table at a Sydney black-tie function.

It took a significant mental leap to reconcile this large, softly spoken man with that guy—disgraced former footy star Shane McAfee—captured in notoriety in newsprint and online, and Falk scrambled for an appropriate response. Shane just shrugged and gave a small self-deprecating smile.

“Don’t worry, mate. What can you really say?”

“For what it’s worth,” Falk said, “I had completely forgotten about that.”

“Lucky you.” Shane grinned. “Although, to be honest, I couldn’t remember a thing about it myself either by the next morning. Other people definitely could, though, and the photo was right there, so my commercial endorsements and media work and everything were gone. Club distanced itself, which wasn’t surprising, really.” For the first time, he sounded a little sad. “I apologized, obviously. Went for a stint in rehab.”

“Then you came back here?”

“Yeah.” Shane moved the mouse and clicked. He was getting the hang of it now. “It was a bit shit at first, but I couldn’t think what else to do. And everyone knew I’d left with this golden chance, and then here I was, back again with a dodgy knee. But Charlie was still around. Kim, too. So that was good,” Shane added, but his face clouded at her name. “They were together again, and Charlie had just bought this place. Kim got pregnant with Zara not long after, so Charlie couldn’t really afford to take me on, but he did, anyway. And yeah, been here ever since.”

On the computer in front of Falk, Shane dragged the final file into place, then reached across the desk for a pen and a piece of paper.

“Anyway. This”—Shane nodded at the clear screen—“was really useful. I’d better write it down so I remember next quarter.”

“I can send you a link that’ll help. Especially if your accountant updates again, which is possible. This system isn’t a great one, to be honest.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t put it past him. He’s always changing things around. Reckons it’s more efficient, but—” Shane grunted in dismissal. “Maybe for him, I guess.”

“You can’t get Charlie to use someone else?” Falk said. “This doesn’t need to be hard.”

“Maybe. It’s tricky, though, because this guy’s the local operator, and we all try to support each other around here.”

Shane hauled himself up, and the desk chair squeaked with relief. He went over to the small fridge in the corner and took out a bottle of water and a couple of glasses. He held one up to Falk, who nodded.

“Back in the day, the local accountant used to be this mate of ours, so he used to do everything for us with the books. He was really good. Like you just then, he knew all the tricks.” Shane passed Falk a glass, then took a long swallow from his own. “Made it all make sense.”

“You can’t use him anymore?” Falk said.

Shane examined his water for a moment. “No. He died. It was shit. Hit-and-run.”

“Dean Tozer?” Falk said, and Shane looked up in surprise.

“Yeah. Did you know him?”

“No. But I was just out at the reservoir with Zara, and I met his son. Charlie mentioned him last night, too. I didn’t realize he worked with you, though.”

Shane nodded. “Not just with us, he did the books for most people in town. He was a smart bloke, worked for some big accountancy firm in London for a while so knew what he was doing. Then when he moved back here to look after Joel he started up on his own. It was good, you know. He understood the businesses around here, and everyone liked him so we all used him.” Shane concentrated harder than he needed to on refilling their glasses. He took another deep drink before he spoke again. “So Joel was out at the reservoir, was he? How did he seem?”

Falk pictured the tall, subdued boy. “A bit sad, I would say.”

“Right. I might go around and see him later. Dunno if he mentioned it, but Dean died during festival week. Six years now, but it’s still hard. Especially this time of year.” Shane paused, swirling the water around in his glass. The man seemed to want to talk, but stayed silent.

“I saw Dean’s memorial plaque,” Falk said eventually. “On the barrier near the Drop.”

“Yeah.” Shane looked up. “You ever attend accident scenes? As a cop?”

“Not for a long time, but when I was younger, yeah. A couple.” Falk still remembered them, though. One in particular, where neither the driver nor passenger had been wearing a seat belt. The inside of the car had looked like a pizza. “Not something I’d be keen to repeat.”