“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.”
“No. Me, neither.” Shane’s soft voice dropped even further. “It was me who found Dean. I mean, the scene, really. Dean wasn’t there.”
“Rita said something about that,” Falk said as Shane studied his own hands, frowning.
“Yeah. I’d sometimes jog around the reservoir track, try to keep the fitness up, you know. Not that often—or not as often as I should—but every few days or so. Dean used to walk his dog down there most mornings, but earlier, so I’d usually miss him.” The creases in Shane’s face deepened. “Then on that day I saw Luna—Dean’s dog—and I remember thinking he must have been running pretty late. But I knew straightaway something was wrong because Luna was in the middle of the bloody track, making this”—he cringed at the memory—“howling noise. I’ve never heard her do that. I thought she was hurt, but she wasn’t, just shaking. Circling and yapping.” Shane shook his head. “The safety railings were a mess. Posts all broken and the middle section gone. Like it had been completely torn out. When I looked over the side there was a big chunk of wood hanging down, all splintered. And Luna was there on her own, and Dean was nowhere. No sign of any car.”
“You could tell that’s what had happened?” Falk said.
“I guessed. From the damage to the barrier.” Shane was quiet for a long moment. “I had a smash myself once. Years ago, not long after I retired, back when I was still drinking. Hit a fence. No one else was involved, but…” He shook away the thought, didn’t look at Falk. “And down at the reservoir it had that same feel about it. Hard to describe.”
Falk knew the one. He’d felt it at accident scenes himself, years ago. As though the air itself absorbed the moment of impact, pulsing with it like an echo.
“I actually tried to call Dean. While I was standing there.” Shane seemed faintly mystified by that. “God knows why. Maybe in case he’d been thrown clear or something and was injured. He didn’t answer. Of course. I couldn’t even hear his phone ring, but Luna was bloody howling and barking, so who knows? I remember looking down into the water again. Couldn’t see anything. Didn’t know how long it had been since the crash. So then—”
Shane drained his water glass, put it on the desk with a sharp tap.
“I called Gemma. I called her instead of Sergeant Dwyer because—” Shane’s usual soft-spoken rhythm was undercut by a streak of anger. “Jesus, I really don’t know. Because I was hoping she’d say Dean was at home, or at the hospital, but that doesn’t make any bloody sense because Gemma and Joel never would’ve left Luna like that. So I can’t even remember exactly what I said, but that was how they found out that Dean was gone. Which wasn’t great.” Shane exhaled and rubbed a hand over his face. His voice steadied, returning to something closer to normal. “I mean, I used to think I did some bloody stupid things back when I was playing, but sometimes I wonder. I wish Gemma and Joel had found out in a better way.”