Facing the Music

by Brian Smith

  ‘And you want me to tell all this to my father. You think it will help persuade him to sell to you?’

  ‘Nothing to do with it.’

  Mancini smiled and opened his arms in an unconvincing gesture of self-deprecation. ‘I would be silly to pretend I’ve led a blameless life – far from it. If I go back far enough, I can say the same thing about Demetri. But he left the old ways behind and became an honest man with an honest career. It took me longer to realise he’d made a wise choice but, when I did, I quickly prospered. Demetri and I have followed very similar paths through our lives. It is just that mine has led to greater heights than his.’ Mike could not understand how Carla could be the daughter of such an arrogant man. ‘We were friends once and should be friends now.’

  ‘You like to be well regarded.’

  Mancini gave Mike a sharp glance.

  ‘My daughter cannot understand why I’m so reluctant to put any pressure on Demetri for him to sell to her. I don’t want it to come to that.’ He let his implied threat hang in the air for a moment before adding, ‘If we talked things through I’m sure we could find a mutually satisfying outcome. But, as he won’t speak with me, it’s up to you. Don’t be coerced by Carla into trying to force Demetri to do something he’ll regret. Find out what he really wants.’

  Irritated at being talked down to, Mike said, ‘I know what that is; he wants me to take over the shops from him.’

  ‘No. That’s a means to an end. Find out what he really wants to achieve by having you take over and see if there are better ways of meeting his wishes.’

  The game had reached half-time and the teams were gathered in two small clumps, shivering in the wind while the coaches harangued them. Mike noticed Christos looking towards them and waved to him. Christos acknowledged the wave with a small one of his own and quickly turned back. Mike realised he had no idea what had happened on the field in the first half. It had not looked as though any goal would come from the pack engulfing the ball but, such was his preoccupation, he couldn’t be sure it hadn’t.

  When the game restarted, Mancini said, ‘Walk with me,’ and strolled towards the far end of the pitch, well away from the other spectators. He stopped to watch the game, standing beside Mike, and after a while began to speak again.

  ‘I know you and Carla have become close and I’m sure she will have unburdened herself to you. She will have told you how Riverside was her idea, how she first persuaded Angelo, and later me, to pursue the project, and how badly I have behaved, resulting in her exclusion from the project and the fracturing of her relationship with Angelo despite the efforts she has made to bring the three of us together again. You will have been very sympathetic – comforting a beautiful woman has great appeal for any man.’

  Mike had no doubt Mancini’s teasing tone was intended to plant the idea Carla often used such a ploy. Perhaps he saw their relationship as some kind of threat – maybe a threat to Carla’s marriage. But Mike had to admit Mancini was accurate in his portrayal of what she had told him. There were shouts from the field and from the supporters as a goal was scored.

  ‘Your son has just put the ball in the net,’ Mancini said and slapped his gloved hands together. Mike could see Christos high-fiving his teammates, and belatedly joined in the applause.

  After the restart, Mancini said, ‘Let me tell you about my daughter. She has many talents and I have looked to her as the only one in my family with the ability to follow me into my businesses. I’m deeply disappointed she refuses to come into my transport company. I’ve begged her many times, but it’s a complex undertaking and she would need to spend time learning the business through postings in various parts of the company before she could take over at the top. This she refuses to do.’ Mancini gave Mike an ironic grin. ‘Jim Findlay obviously had the same problem with his son. The difference between us is that I stood firm and all of you at Findlay’s now know I was right.

  ‘Carla has great ambition. Ambition is a fine thing, but must at times be tempered by commercial reality. Carla has been slow to learn this. Take Café Filipo. I established it as a profitable but unremarkable trattoria. When Carla came into it she immediately set out to make it a distinctive restaurant of the highest quality. Were it not for my patience and my deep pockets, it would have gone out of business in the first year.’

  Mike hunched his shoulders and swung his arms against the cold, showing his impatience with this long-winded man, but Mancini went on. ‘When Carla married Angelo Rossi, he was the owner of a successful, medium-sized building company – Rubicon. Angelo is a very good builder but has none of Carla’s driving ambition. Although she held no position in her husband’s company she was determined Rubicon should become a major developer. Angelo preferred to run the firm in his own way at his own pace but Carla prevailed, as she does with most men. She was the first to see the potential of the Riverside site for a vast and prestigious development and carried Angelo along with her ideas. When she came to me for support I was happy to work with her and Angelo on the project. I do have sway with a number of influential people; have twisted some arms and called in some favours. I also put in a significant amount of my own funds. The first stages were highly successful, although it was apparent Angelo deeply regretted no longer holding unquestioned control. I don’t blame him. I would have hated to have my father-in-law and my wife taking the lead in any of my companies.

  ‘I was the first to see the coming downturn in the property market and the need to recast our plans. Again Carla was unwilling to curb her ambition in the face of commercial reality and we argued. Angelo may be a very capable builder, but he’s out of his depth in the other aspects of such a large and complex project. He could only complain that we were the ones who had created the problems. Carla lost her temper …’

  Mancini paused to give Mike an appraising glance. ‘Her delightful serenity can crack if the pressure becomes too great. She ordered Angelo to stop complaining and pointed out he now depended on me for the viability of Rubicon. She thought I would rescue Rubicon as I had done for some of her earlier ventures, but this was on a much larger scale. When I refused to put in more funds, Angelo decided to show the Mancini family he could get along without them.

  ‘Carla continues trying to reassert her influence, but her efforts are futile. In the end it’s always the men with the money who rule. Angelo has lost control of his company.’

  ‘You mean Sarac ?’

  ‘Sarac?’ Mancini scoffed. ‘A low-grade thug who likes to put on airs. Incompetent, too. Look how ineffective he and his gang were in trying to disrupt CityView. They had to go elsewhere to set you up.’

  ‘Who do you mean?’

  Mancini turned to look directly into Mike’s eyes. ‘Why is Vern McKenzie working with them?’

  ‘Is he?’

  ‘You know he is. What I need to understand is why.’

  ‘Vern has a high opinion of Angelo Rossi. I think he may have gone to him when he realised CityView and Riverside were coming into competition with one another.’

  Mike could hear the lameness of his reply but, sure as hell, was not going to say anything to Mancini about his fear of Vern’s treachery.

  ‘Come off it,’ Mancini said. ‘Why did he set you up with this bribery scam?’

  ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘I know a lot about you and your problems.’

  Mike’s voice rose as his irritation with Mancini’s all-knowing arrogance spilled out.

  ‘If you know so much about me, you should know it was the union official, Alan Reardon, who set me up, not Vern.’

  Mancini was unfazed. ‘No, you’re wrong. Reardon needed to protect himself, but it was McKenzie who set you up.’

  ‘Why are you so interested in my problems?’

  ‘I’m not. But I am interested in McKenzie, the loyal deputy to Jim Findlay who must be bitter that Findlay was stupid enough to bring his son in over the top of him. Is he taking his revenge?’

  ‘He’s not sell
ing him out.’

  ‘Ah, so you do know more. What is he doing?’

  ‘I told you. He’s looking for cooperation, not confrontation with Rubicon.’

  Mancini touched Mike on the arm. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I know you’re under great pressure at the moment.’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’

  ‘You should take some comfort from the line the police have taken with you over the killing of Shane Francis.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When a murder is involved the police dig much further and much deeper than for lesser crimes.’

  ‘I’ve seen that,’ Mike said.

  ‘Yes, but take heart from the way they’re trying to frighten you into a confession. It means they haven’t enough to charge you. It also means they’ll keep digging despite the impression you were given.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I can understand why you’re reluctant to tell me all you know and I admit I’m not primarily concerned for you, but our interests are aligned. I’m sure McKenzie is the key to unravelling this whole can of worms, including the strife you’re in.’

  Mancini delved below his overcoat and produced a card, which he handed to Mike.

  ‘Now I’ve taken you into my confidence call me if there’s anything you think might help me or any way I can help you.’

  ‘You’ve told me nothing. A bit here and a bit there to show how clever you are, but you haven’t levelled with me. Why should I have anything to do with you?’

  ‘If I told you any more I’d be putting you in more danger than you are already. You should help me where you can because it’s in your interest to have me succeed.’

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  ‘Ah, the game is over and your son has had a win. We should go to congratulate him.’

  Mancini turned and began to walk back to where Christos’ jubilant team was being congratulated by their supporters. ‘One last word of advice.’ He paused and turned to look directly at Mike beside him. ‘Be patient – something you must find difficult in your situation.’

  ‘Hey, Dad, did you see it?’ A beaming Christos was still ten metres away but he had no patience, either.

  ‘Yeah. Great,’ Mike said uncertainly. Did Christos mean the goal or the win?

  ‘I liked the way you waited your chance and measured it off before you buried it in the net,’ Mancini said with an enthusiasm which brought Christos’ faltering smile back to full width.

  ‘This is Mr Mancini. My son, Christos.’

  Mancini extended his hand to Christos as he had earlier to Mike. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet a fellow footballer.’ He paused and affected a modesty which Mike felt was quite out of character. ‘Not of your class, I’m afraid. I was too big and awkward, but I made a formidable goalie. Many years ago I played for Brunswick Juventus.’

  ‘My grandfather played for South Melbourne Hellas.’

  ‘Very good he was, too. I was in the 1958 Juventus side that won the premiership, but then, along came Hellas with your father in their team and we found it hard to get a look in. We did sometimes, though. We had to be patient. Like you were today. I’ve been saying the same thing to your father. You have to wait patiently until you see your chance and then you don’t hold back – you strike.’

  He gave what amounted to a small bow and left them staring as he walked to the silver Mercedes and was driven away.

  Christos maintained a constant stream of excited chatter about the game on the way home. Demetri came towards them as they reached their front gate.

  ‘Grandpa! I scored a goal and we won,’ Christos shouted.

  ‘Well done, my boy. Great news. Let’s go inside and you can tell me all about it.’

  Mary’s car pulled up beside them and the four went into the house together. Almost immediately the family divided into groups. Leila and Jacinta set the table and served the drinks their mother had poured. Mary and Lissa went to the kitchen to put the finishing touches to the meal and to talk about Lissa’s next commission – lunch for eight people in the office of a local solicitor.

  Demetri and Christos settled on the couch for a detailed description of his triumph. Mike, as he had been at the game itself, became an uninvolved spectator, lost in his own thoughts. Mancini had annoyed and intrigued him. He was certainly a showman – the arrogant way he presented himself, the pleasure he took in letting Mike know he had a well-placed source in the police force, his oblique endorsement of Alan Reardon and his references to Jim and Ben Findlay.

  Mancini’s supposed concern for his father was probably a pretext to gain Mike’s attention before asking about Vern. Trying to find out what Vern was doing was his real interest; that and his attempt to undermine Carla in Mike’s eyes with his sly digs at the way she manipulated men. Was he just a father, unhappy about his married daughter showing interest in another man? Mike needed some time by himself to sort through what Mancini had said and, more importantly, what he had hinted at but left unsaid.

  Demetri broke into Mike’s thoughts as if he had been listening to them. ‘Mancini! What was he doing there this afternoon?’ he demanded. ‘Up to no good, I’ll bet.’

  Taken aback by his grandfather’s vehemence, Christos looked across to his father for support.

  ‘He gave Chris the same advice you’re always giving him,’ Mike said.

  ‘What would he know?’

  ‘Grandpa, he told us he won a premiership with Juventus before Hellas became the top team when you were there.’

  ‘He was never a good footballer. He scraped into the Juventus team a few times when their regular goalie was injured, but he didn’t have the skill or the commitment to be a good player – too busy running his gang.’

  ‘Dinner everyone,’ Lissa called and Mike was the first to move, eager to break away from his father.

  While Demetri spent the meal quizzing the children about their activities, Mike took the opportunity to scrutinise Mary who sat opposite him at the end of the table away from their father. She still looked strained, but some colour had returned to her face or perhaps been put there for the occasion. Conscious of Mike’s eye upon her, she gave him a tentative smile; the most pleasant she had been to him in days.

  When the meal was over, Lissa announced she had rented a DVD of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows that Christos could set up on the TV upstairs while the adults had coffee. As soon as the children left the room, Mary came over to Mike.

  ‘I never thought you did it,’ she said. ‘I just couldn’t understand why he mentioned you before he went out. The police have got it all wrong.’

  ‘Lissa told you?’

  ‘What is this?’ Demetri asked querulously.

  ‘The police have got it into their heads – some of them anyway – that I was the one who killed Shane. One of the reasons your old mate Mario Mancini came this afternoon was to tell me not to lose my nerve under the pressure from the police. He seems to have someone in the force who keeps him very well informed of what’s going on in the homicide squad.’

  ‘He probably always has had,’ Demetri lamented.

  ‘He also wanted to tell me the man he was supposed to have killed – Drago Fontini, was that his name? – died accidently when he tried to run away from a fight with Mancini. You don’t have to be ashamed about having sat on the tape.’

  ‘And you believe him?’

  Demetri’s voice made it clear he certainly didn’t.

  ‘As it happens, I do.’

  ‘But what can you do to clear your name?’ Mary asked.

  ‘I reckon Mancini agrees with me that Shane was killed because the thugs he hung out with …’ Mike saw the look Mary shot him. ‘Sorry, Mary.’

  ‘No. I know more about what Shane was doing now. When the police started asking me some questions I didn’t understand, they had to tell me. What were you about to say?’

  ‘I was going to say some of the guys Shane was working with are hard cases. One of them mugged me on the nig
ht Shane was killed. I reckon they found out about Shane and me knowing one another and thought he was telling me what they were up to. That’s why they beat me up and killed him.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Mary said. ‘That would explain what he said, and the police told me they think it was a fight that went wrong for Shane. He was badly beaten and unconscious but still alive when they dumped him in the river.’

  ‘There’s a lot going on Mancini wouldn’t tell me about although, being the kind of man he is, he couldn’t resist dropping some hints. I reckon all of it is somehow linked together.

  I’ll have to work it out for myself.’

  ‘So many problems,’ Demetri said mournfully.

  ‘Cheer up, Dad. We’ll be OK.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m feeling tired. It was a busy day at the shop.’

  ‘I’ll drive you home,’ Mary volunteered.

  ‘No,’ Mike interjected. ‘It’s just around the corner. I’ll walk with you, Dad.’

  As soon as they were in the street Mike said, ‘For years now, you’ve made it clear you dearly want me to come into the business with you, but what do you want to achieve by having me there?’

  ‘Have you come to your senses? You’ve seen what troubles your job brings you?’

  ‘No, Dad, I still feel the same, but this isn’t about me. It’s about you. I’ve never asked you before. What would having me come into the business achieve for you?’

  ‘You will follow me. The name will continue.’ Demetri gave an irritated shake of his head. ‘I’ve told you this many times before. Weren’t you listening? My father promised his father and I promised him the Georgiou name would be maintained in Bay Street. We kept our promises and now it is up to you to do the same.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Mike replied, surprising his father. ‘I haven’t been listening.’