Tony had never liked his brother in law. Not that he made it obvious. The guy would come round on Sundays when Melly was at church and supervise whatever activity was taking place.
``If I was doing that I'd pull that gutter off first,'' Tom would say, or ``If you want it code, you better move it over six inches.'' He even went after Deb's cooking. ``You don't want to salt that yet, you'll draw out the juices.'' He was right about half the time.
Seventeen years ago Tony had lent Tom some money. Not a lot by some people's standards, but enough to halve his savings. Tom paid it back on time, with interest. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that Tom had used the money to start a business and had been successful. Now he drove a BMW and had a three car garage and five bedrooms in his snout house in a distant suburb.
Now today he had another favor to ask. Not much. Just to write a fake contract and take some money and keep it for a while. How much money? Not much. Not much by Tom's standards perhaps, but an eye popping amount to poor Tony.
``What about taxes?'' he asked.
``When were you last audited?'' Tom asked with half a sneer. Never.
``He's a good man,'' Deb said, ``he works so hard. Ever since he got out he's worked so hard. He's a changed man.''
``If he's so changed why does he have to do this? This ain't right.''
``He must have his reasons. He knows you don't like him. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't really need to.'' She was his sister. Loyal to a fault.
The thought occurred to Tony that if he refused, Tom would stop coming round on Sunday mornings. That would be nice. For him. Not for Deb.
In the end he did it. Did it for Deb. Did it for Tom who wasn't that bad in some ways. He did it for peace and quiet and family loyalty and for a small profit.
And Tony felt a darkness in him that had not been there before. It ate his sleep. Deb would wake at three A.M. to hear the thud of the ball as he shot endless baskets at the hoop on the garage door.