Jack Irish: Dead Point Page #2

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you know he was a drug addict?

Colburne had information

which could have...

..critical effect on the Inquiry.

Information that

died with him, or...?

There's a leather-bound book.

It's red.

His memoirs, I take it?

Something like that.

Then why not consult the police?

My understanding is they come rather

quickly when people like you call.

At this stage, Jack, I don't

necessarily trust the police.

Some of their names could be

in that book.

Mm.

I have to go. I have to be in court.

Don't forget this is a matter

of the utmost discretion.

Of course.

Listen, Colin, why didn't you come

directly to me in the first place?

Because every time I see you,

I feel sad.

Laurie Olsen?

Oh, Jack, come in. Afraid I can

only give you a bee's dick.

Just working my way through

the Amazon Forest here.

Oh, that's a nice-looking cat.

Yeah, Migsie.

No longer with us.

Yeah, Barry was telling me you're

interested in one of our snitches.

Yeah.

Yeah, Robbie Colburne.

He got form, has he?

Track marks?

Like Flinders Street Station, mate.

Full-time pin cushion.

Reckon I can have a squiz at one of

those crime scene photos?

Come on, mate.

I'm already in the doghouse

around here.

Tell you what, Jack,

if arseholes could fly,

this would be an airport.

Right.

Right. I'll get out of your hair.

Thanks.

Oh, listen, sorry.

Sorry, one more thing.

You wouldn't have an address on

Robbie, would you?

Ah!

Excuse me?

I just want to talk to you!

Oh!

RADIO:
..standstill on

the ring-road...

Yeah, I know how you feel.

No, it's my ribs.

A man's got to know

his limitations, Jack.

Fighting fence posts

rarely ends well.

Yeah.

Hey, why are we bringing

the Commissioner in on this one?

Well, I've got a little nag

ready to show unexpected form

in a feature race.

Wouldn't want anyone getting wind.

Commissioner marshals

a crack team...

Sorry, this won't take long.

You're with Linda Hillier on 3KB.

Time now to hear from our listeners.

The number to call is 1300-33-33-33.

Our topic today,

illegal drug importation.

How can we raise...

Oh, Len from Pascoe Vale.

And first up we have Len

from Pascoe Vale.

- Am I on, Linda?

- Yes, Len. Go ahead.

Ah, long-time listener,

first time caller.

Big fan of the show.

Appreciate that.

Now, aphids and lace bugs,

they're common plant pests,

but with the right insecticide,

you can...

Len, if I can just stop you there.

The topic is actually

illicit street drugs.

Oh, drugs, not bugs.

And this not the gardening show?

No, sorry.

Oh, OK.

Let's take another caller.

So, we've successfully moved on

from that relationship, have we?

This is the Commissioner's house?

Is someone gonna get that phone?

Can you two stop fighting?

Turn it off, please.

Ollie, just give it to her.

No!

Ollie!

Give it, Marie!

Give it to me!

Baxter, get out of it!

Go get your bag. Turn the Xbox off!

There she is. Lady Luck herself.

Harry, come on in. Come and meet

the case for contraception.

Cam.

Hey, Cyn.

Jack.

Commissioner.

Baxter, out of the way.

Hello, Mr Strang.

Morning, Marie.

Alright, there's your ride, you lot.

Try and learn something today, OK?

Got everything?

Yep.

Alright.

Have a good day at school, you mob.

See ya!

Laters.

See ya.

Cup of tea?

So, Cynth, all set for the Valley?

Right as rain, Harry.

My crew'll bet the market up.

Push Mr Renoir out.

Hit the ring,

mop him up in the high 20s.

Sorry.

Irish.

That was you before,

wasn't it?

Len from Pascoe Vale?

Dixicano, now he's the short priced

favourite. And there's...

Shouldn't you be on air?

I'm in an ad break.

I'm in a life break.

We'll play him like a banjo.

The bookies'll be sucking their

thumb in the foetal position.

So, is this your way

of asking me out to dinner?

Listen, if you want to go out

for dinner, just say so.

I could book Donelli's.

Doesn't anything change?

Not if I can help it, no.

I got a better idea.

I'm back on air.

I'll call you later.

If our hoop stays wide,

avoids the traffic.

Mr Renoir's a duck. He'll swim home.

Nice to have your full attention.

Now, best you boys avoid the track.

Keep it arm's length.

And I'll meet you here

for a Spumante.

Still, shame they don't have races

with just one horse in them.

Just to be sure.

JAZZY TUNE:

You look rather good.

I'll pass for radio.

It's good to have you back.

Yes, I may never

leave Melbourne again.

Really?

Well, maybe not never.

You know, they say they've got never

down to about six months now.

So I, ah... saw you in the paper

with that shock jock

who does drive.

My star-f***ing days are over.

I'm going for the lesser lights

of the galaxy.

Butchers, newsagents,

suburban lawyers.

Well, I can probably help you there.

Oh, yeah?

Yes. I know an excellent butcher.

I'm thinking we take this slowly.

Yes. Absolutely.

Have you...

have you heard of The Snug?

I'm game if you are.

I think it's a business in the city.

Mm.

Yeah, it's a private club.

Yeah, invitation only.

It's a veritable who's who.

Governors General, Chief Justices,

even a PM or two, I've heard.

Why? You moving up in the world?

I guess there's a dress code.

What?

Name?

I'm not a member.

I'm here about Robbie Colburne.

Police? You've already been here.

No, no, no. I'm a lawyer.

My name's Jack Irish.

I represent Robbie's family.

(His name is Jack...)

Welcome to The Snug, Mr Irish.

I'm Ros Hoskin-Elliott.

Jack.

Strong hand, Jack.

You don't always work behind a desk.

No, not always.

This is my assistant, Xavier.

We call him X.

The unknown.

He's bi-curious if you're wondering.

Oh, well, I'll keep that in mind.

Sienna tells me that you're acting

for Robbie's family.

Yeah, there's an estate involved.

We get a lot of lawyers in here.

QCs, judges.

Hmm.

Ah, what... what sort of club

is this, exactly?

We provide an oasis

of privacy and discretion.

It's somewhere where members

can be themselves.

To Robbie,

tenderest of bartenders.

The needle was a surprise.

A little bit of nasal recreation,

I could understand.

You think you know someone.

Was he close to anyone here?

Robbie was always something

of a dark horse.

And did he leave

any personal effects behind?

You know, maybe in a locker?

I'm sorry I can't be of more

assistance, Jack.

But I will leave your name

on the door.

Hopefully we'll be seeing

more of you.

Actually, I was thinking about

applying for a job.

Do you always pay your bartenders

this well?

Only the best for my members, Jack.

Sienna will see you out.

You're not the family lawyer.

Robbie didn't have any family.

What do you lot want from him now?

He's dead.

Ah, Sienna, is there somewhere

we can talk privately?

Not here.

Well, I'm a member of a club myself,

actually.

It's pretty exclusive. It's the

Prince of Prussia, over in Fitzroy.

I could definitely leave your name

on the door.

And here's my...

Race No.3 on the card

from Moonee Valley,

1,100 metres the trip.

Caveat Lector is the firm favourite,

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