Free White Dog by Peter Temple Page B

something unobjectionable in people who hadn’t given offence but capable of arousing a violent urge.
    ‘Once the aim was to earn a lavish tip by grovelling,’ said Drew. ‘Now they want you to grovel. You saw her?’
    ‘What do the jacks say about the gun?’
    ‘Found in the course of a routine search of the area around Mickey’s building.’
    ‘Following a tip-off is what I’m told.’
    Drew cocked his long head. ‘That’s good for a fit-up yarn.’
    ‘If admitted. Also good for a dobbed-in-by-unknown-accomplice, unfortunately.’
    ‘Someone betting she’s willing to go down alone? No. Accords better with weapon planted by the person who shot Mick five times through two folds of towel.’
    ‘Thick Egyptian cotton towel, no doubt. If there was a tip, it makes this very difficult.’
    The waiter arrived, clicked down two glasses of red wine. He was leaving when Drew said, crisply, ‘Waiter.’
    Pearbum stopped, turned like someone with a bad back.
    ‘I haven’t accepted this wine,’ said Drew.
    Pearbum took in air, you could see the inflation of the midsection.
    Drew sniffed his glass, one deep sniff, and put it down. ‘Oxidised,’ he said, his eyes on Pearbum. ‘Wine from a new bottle, please.’
    Pearbum’s chin and eyebrows went up. Drew gave him the stare, the unblinking, sceptical look used for cross-examining hard-arsed police witnesses.
    Pearbum looked back, but he was basically soft-arsed and looking into Drew’s eyes reminded him of this. He lowered chin and eyebrows. ‘Certainly, sir,’ he said. He gathered the glasses.
    ‘Masterly,’ I said. ‘Now we get the eyedrops in the food.’
    ‘If they dare,’ said Drew. ‘They dare only against the weak. What else?’
    ‘Not much. It seems the feds were asked but they were busy.’
    ‘Asked what?’
    I shrugged. ‘Sarah thinks she was being watched.’
    ‘I’m not surprised. I’d watch her. What’s thinks mean?’
    ‘She kept seeing the same woman in the street.’
    Drew shook his head. ‘Anyone to back that up?’
    ‘Only her sister and the deceased. Then there’s the actual property invasion and the suspected one.’
    ‘I know about them,’ said Drew. ‘Unreported is the problem.’
    ‘What about Rick the driver?’
    ‘I was going to ask about Rick.’
    Pearbum’s replacement arrived, a slim youth carrying a bottle and new glasses. He uncorked the bottle and poured a splash for Drew, who gave it a cursory sniff and nodded.
    ‘As two blokes having lunch,’ said Drew. ‘What?’
    ‘She probably did it,’ I said, ‘but she presents well. No visible twitches, engaging candour, scorns angry jilted lover angle, says little sister Sophie was always saying give me your toy.’
    I tried the wine. Pearbum had captured its essence: wine, red. ‘Sophie’s a hope. She may be able to point the finger somewhere else, vaguely point, there’s a chance.’
    ‘We’ll have to talk to her,’ said Drew. ‘Our mutual friend say anything about her?’
    ‘No. I don’t think she’s on their team.’
    ‘We’ll find out in due course. The old boy says she’s staying with friends.’
    ‘Mickey worked for the Massianis for six years,’ I said. ‘I read they’re on this building royal commission’s playlist.’
    Drew put a finger to the outer corner of an eye, took on a strange Asian-Caucasian look. ‘My instinctive reaction,’ he said, ‘is that if Mickey could’ve hurt the Massianis, he’d have long been part of the structural underpinning of a prestigious office tower.’
    ‘I’ll ask him about that,’ I said.
    ‘Do that,’ said Drew. ‘Ask him. He went to Monash, Steven Massiani, tell him you went to Melbourne. He’s probably haunted by feelings of inferiority like all Monash graduates. Law and engineering, first-class honours. For what that’s worth.’
    Drew looked up at the painted ceiling, at the badly painted fat nudes and cherubs and bowls of fruit. ‘I wonder why they don’t combine law and transgender