Page 27 of Last Shot

‘Stop interrogating me. You’re not a cop anymore.’

The expression that flashed across her face made him almost regret that. ‘I think I’ll get changed now before we go visit the La Marcas.’ Her hair fell across her face like a black crow’s wing.

He tried, yet again, to think of a good excuse for why he should go alone. Not going at all was not an option. There was no news on Poppy Raven, the alleged poisoned wine victim. Her condition in ICU was the same, which meant so was the internet’s opinion on the Barbaranis’ guilt. The La Marcas needed to be questioned if only to stop Tom from actually poisoning Grey’s water system for not acting with enough urgency. And if he went alone, The Situation would have to stay here, and he couldn’t monitor what she was doing or who she was talking to. He wouldn’t put it past her to find a way to the mansion through the sewerage system.

Someone else might have been worried, when Maxella Conrad extracted herself from his couch and padded down the hallway to his bathroom, that it wouldn’t be clean enough for a guest. Especially an attractive female guest. Instead, Grey prayed that there were shavings crusting in the sink and stray pubic hairs floating in the undrained shower water.

He had never wanted someone gone so much.

9

Max

The way Grey spoke about the La Marcas had Max assuming they lived at the top of a hill in a black castle, with crows circling ominously above. But the Barbaranis’ mortal enemies lived about twenty minutes down Cove Road on an estate that looked like something an architect would win a prestigious award for, but that ordinary people would squint at for a while, trying to work out if it was ‘expensive-ugly’ or just weird. The winery itself was a white block sheathed in glass that made it look like an icicle unperturbed by the Australian sun. Down a green hill, past the vineyards, she could see the La Marca mansion, complete with Rapunzel turrets.

Grey had been silent the whole drive there. Probably plotting the best burial site in case she ‘fell’ out of the passenger door. So she’d had to do her own research on the rival dynasty, which was fine because she didn’t want to talk to him anyway, and focusing on something else made her forget she was in a car. Her phone had managed to charge to 39 per cent with the charger he’d begrudgingly let her use. She was still unclear whether his hesitation had been due to concern she would use the cord as a garrotte or fear at what havoc she could wreak with a fully functioning phone.

For once the internet hadn’t been too bad at giving her a relatively unbiased assessment of the two feuding families – an article by a reporter called Sophie Kingsley had given her the basics. Max felt like she was in the car with the journalist, not Greyson, as she answered her questions in succinct, punchy Times New Roman anecdotes.

Why do the families hate each other?

They’ve been enemies since the end of the war,Sophie replied.The La Marcas think Emilio stole the sangue wine recipe he became famous for from Antonio.

And the Barbaranis?

They think Antonio killed Emilio.

How did Emilio die?

His body was found at the bottom of a cliff in Dolphin Sound. There’s no evidence suggesting Antonio or the La Marcas had anything to do with it.

I was a cop and I’ve never heard of any police involvement.

That’s because it’s a silent war; they don’t involve authorities. It’s the one thing they can agree on.

Crime affiliations?

None you’ll be able to link them to. The La Marcas’ connection to Kaine Skinner suggests they were involved with his meth enterprises, but you’ll never get anyone turning on them – they brand all their employees in the inner-circle.

Brand? Like cattle?

Or gang insignia. It’s called the La Marca Cuore. Every La Marca child is tattooed with the family crest when they’re fourteen – right on the breastbone, just above the heart. Those who swear their allegiance to them get it too.

So the La Marcas plotting the murder of Giovanni Barbarani is quite plausible in your opinion?

See for yourself. In the past few years alone, we’ve had Tomaso Barbarani’s brakes cut in his car, Ariana La Marca’s boyfriend in a fist fight in Perth with Luca Barbarani, and the lobbying efforts to have Francesca Barbarani charged for her animal rights protest at the Ribs and Bibs restaurant in Scarborough have La Marca written all over them.

Kingsley offered up a bunch more examples of the intertwining stems of both families’ history laced with thorns. So, yeah, the family who hated the Barbaranis, who clearly had hundreds of unburied hatchets still sticking out of the ground from half a century of rivalry, was Max’s clear front runner for this murder plot, even without the knowledge that their employee Kaine Skinner had been paid to take out the hit.

Two plus two equalled four.

Why then, was Greyson treating it like a complex calculus equation that made no sense? Perhaps if she’d knocked on his door in something similar to what she was wearing now, with her hair free of grass seeds and her make-up perfect, he would have been more willing to take her seriously.

Well, maybe not seriously. Years of being a five-foot-three female police officer had taught her that.

Nella Barbarani’s navy tank top covered the essentials but only just. And of course, someone like Nella couldn’t just have a simple tank top – a ring of pearls was currently framing Max’s cleavage like it was on display at the Louvre.

Max had to roll up the cuffs on Nella’s ripped black jeans. Luckily the outfit went okay with her Doc Martens, because all Nella had left were heels; her feet must have been permanently frozen into Barbie-doll tip-toes. The only jacket was something disturbingly fluffy and pink, like an electrocuted marshmallow. Max decided she would brave the cold.

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