Jack Irish: Bad Debts Page #2

Hard after fifteen years.

Yeah, I wouldn't know.

Ah-ha. That's how long ago it was.

I mean, who has a VHS anymore?

Oh, I know people.

(Football commentary on TV)

Where the hell were you

last Saturday when we needed you?

The Saints went down by three goals.

I was in Sydney, on business.

What sort of bloody work takes

you to Sydney on a Saturday arvo?

He doesn't work no more.

Not real work.

He's a standover boy.

A bloody debt collector now!

Didn't miss much.

They played like girls.

They don't make 'em

like your old man anymore.

Toughest man ever to wear

an athletic support.

Listen, I need to stick this on,

if I can.

Well, they're watching the game.

It's a replay. From 1996.

Hey! It's Fitzroy's

last game at the G.

Yeah. We got smashed by 25 goals.

It was horrible.

Never about that, Jack,

as well you know.

It's three-quarter time.

He can put it on now.

But make it quick, will ya?

Reminds me of round fourteen, 1971.

Remember that game against the Roos?

NEWSREADER:
Danny McKillop's car

was seen swerving out of control

in Ardenne Street,

moments before fatally injuring

public housing campaigner,

Anne Jeppeson.

I recognise that sheila.

This blue car was just

weaving all over the road,

and suddenly, bang!

Just ploughed straight

through her and kept on going.

Poor woman didn't stand a chance.

Daniel McKillop was found asleep

in the garage of his home...

Put the game back on.

Three-quarter time'd be over by now.

(Sighs)

(Speaks foreign language)

Well, Charlie, maybe if you

drew me a plan of the table

instead of just four

random measurements

on torn-off bits of the Age,

I might know what I'm doing.

What for do I need drawings?

I don't do anything

I didn't make before.

But it's all in your head.

And I don't know

if what's in your head

is the same as what's in my head.

I don't want anything in

your head near my head, thank you.

Jack. Charlie.

Hey, Cam.

Harry needs to see you

for a couple of hours.

Righto.

Can you spare us your apprentice,

please, Charlie?

Should manage.

Fifty years on my own until wonder

boy shows up wanting to learn.

How's he doing?

Shithouse.

INTERVIEWER, ON RADIO: Mr Pitman,

and Opposition is demanding to know

why the Yarra Cove Development

was approved without

proper public consultation.

MAN, ON RADIO:
No, no, no, listen.

Yarra Cove is an injection

of $600 million

straight into

this state's coffers...

Put on some Willy Nelson, will you?

Who wants to listen to pollies lie

all the way to Ballarat?

They reckon

the racing industry's bent.

What the hell's Yarra Cove?

Sounds tropical, doesn't it?

Topless chicks

swaying about in grass skirts

on the banks of the Yarra.

They'd have icicles

on their nipples.

Sorry, Harry. No Willy, just Kenny.

Oh, let's do it in silence.

Who'd live here?

You'd have to be committed

by a Magistrate.

TRUMPET PLAYS:

So, all on Topside Winder?

No, you leave that to the others.

You back the favourite to win.

Go early.

I want to see if we can't

push Topside's odds out a bit.

(Men shout racing odds)

Charlemagne's Pride.

1,000 to win, thanks.

1,000 pays 6,000, Charlemagne!

Topside Winder, 500 to win.

500 on Topside to win.

Topside Winder, for 500 on the nose.

CALLER:
Just about ready

for the running

of race number three on the card,

the McVane Family Textiles Handicap.

Starter up. Ready to jump now!

(Bottle pops)

HARRY:
Thought we should take a

little look at the Dom to celebrate.

Jack.

Better finish these

before the wife makes an appearance.

We averaged fifteen to one.

Some of these bookies see a go

coming if you put down 50 bucks.

Fifteens are fine.

You don't want to nuke the bastards.

We want them there next time.

Jack, I want to show you something.

Cheers.

Cheers!

Gate five. Dakota Dreaming.

The animal's got

a truly horrible record.

Lucky he's not in the pet's mince.

Slow it down.

Give him the history, Cam.

Bred for staying.

Top-shelf Kiwi pedigree.

Won his first race by seven lengths,

then pulled up lame. Tendon trouble.

Then ran ninth.

With respect, Harry, he doesn't seem

like much of an investment to me.

He hasn't run for two years,

but some blokes up Ballarat way

reckon he's come good.

Got a couple of big races in him.

Maybe just watering their tonsils,

but these blokes know their nags.

There!

Now, did he or didn't he?

Yeah.

Looks like he's holding to me.

It may be worth another pilgrimage

in the very near.

Take another squiz

at Dakota Dreaming.

Oh, I don't think

I really earned this today, Harry.

Probably not.

Cam'll give you a lift home.

I hear Vanotti's got a groin.

My opinion,

and I get no pleasure saying it,

Vanotti's missing something

in his groin.

Hey.

You seen the paper?

Danny McKillop shot dead by a cop

in the car park of the Trafalgar.

Apparently he pulled a pistol.

So I guess that's that, then.

Oh, sh*t.

Why would he pull a gun on a cop?

Well, it says he was off his face.

Oh, God, so that's twice I've

screwed this poor bastard over now.

If that's guilt I'm hearing,

forget it.

The worst time of his life

he gets a drunk lawyer,

and this time he calls me,

I don't even show up.

It's a prosecutor's wet dream.

I mean, he was probably

working some drug scam.

Just drop it, mate.

Yeah...

I'm serious.

File it under 'best forgotten'.

Why is this only on page nine?

This is this third groin, you know.

PRIEST:
For this reason

I tell you that his sins,

many as they are,

have been forgiven him,

for he has shown great love.

It is someone who forgives little

that shows little love.

Then he said unto him,

your sins are forgiven.

And now Danny's daughter, Kristy...

..uh, Kirsty,

will place a special letter

for her father on the coffin.

Thanks.

Sue McKillop?

I'm so sorry to hear about Danny.

I'm Jack Irish.

Kirsty, this is your Dad's lawyer.

The one who

wouldn't return his calls.

Well, I was in Sydney.

I didn't get the messages

till it was too late.

Listen, when things settle down,

I was just wondering

if you could give me a call.

Things aren't going to settle.

Yeah.

Join us at the wake if you like.

Come on.

You don't know why Danny

wanted me to meet him, do you?

Two blokes were waiting outside

the house on Thursday night.

Danny saw them and bolted.

Beer.

Jack, Vin. Danny's cousin.

Hi.

Jack was the one that...

The top lawyer.

Papers said he had a gun.

He didn't own one.

The Danny I knew was no crim.

He finished school in jail,

he got a job, got off the drugs.

We were living a good life,

you know?

He was a good Dad.

Do you know what

these two blokes wanted?

No.

About a month ago

this woman called out of the blue

and she told Danny

her husband had just died.

Left actual proof he was

fitted up for the hit-and-run.

What... what kind of proof?

I don't know.

I don't know who she was,

what she was talking about.

Danny just wanted

to put it behind him.

But it kept gnawing away at him.

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