Ten

Day 2

East Perth Police Department

5.00 p.m. Monday, 26th October 1965

‘The super wants to see you,’ Bishop yelled as Cardilini passed his office.

‘Why?’

‘Go and ask him. Now.’

Cardilini turned and headed back to the stairs. The ‘brass’ were on the third level. The third level, to distinguish it from the lower levels, had red linoleum streaked with white. Suggesting royal blood was one theory, but Cardilini subscribed to another: the red linoleum was due to the amount of backstabbing that went on.

Cardilini had joined the police force a few years after Superintendent Robinson and they’d been good friends as constables together in a small country town. He knocked on Robinson’s door, and entered.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Robinson demanded.

‘Taking a dump.’

‘Bloody long dump.’ Cardilini sat. ‘Did you know Dr Braun called today?’

‘Yep?’

‘A murder? How the hell did it turn into a murder? There was shoot­­ing across the river. A stray bullet. What’s the matter with you?’

Cardilini asked, ‘What if the rifle was fired from the grounds? Maybe a 180-yard shot. A marksman,’ Cardilini said.

‘A marksman! That’s all we need. You got any proof of this? It’s over, Cardilini. I’ve just had my balls kicked for five minutes by the deputy commissioner. It was a shooting accident, for Christ’s sake.’

‘I might be a lazy bastard, but I’m not stupid, Robinson.’

‘Did Salt see it like that?’ Robinson asked pointedly.

Cardilini paused, perplexed. ‘No,’ he replied.

Robinson stood and strode to the door. Halfway across the room, he stopped, turned and said, ‘Sit on your fat arse, Cardilini. That’s what you’re good at.’ He walked out.

Cardilini was left staring out the window with a new furrow in his brow.

Eventually Robinson returned and sat comfortably before flicking Salt’s notebook towards Cardilini.

‘Have a look at these,’ he said.

The notes were precise and objective with no assumptions and no conclusions, just facts: date, times, places, names and diagrams. Just like they taught at the academy.

‘He’s good. Isn’t he?’ Robinson asked after a few minutes. Cardilini stopped his study of the notebook and gently placed it on Robinson’s desk and sat back.

‘Well?’ Robinson encouraged.

‘Is he your man?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘He’s written his notes to suit your story of a stray shot from across the river.’

‘My story? Careful, Cardilini. The deputy commissioner and I investigated and drew that conclusion. Well, where are your notes?’

‘Yeah, my notes … um …’ Cardilini cast his eye about as if looking for them.

‘Yeah. I forgot what a great detective you are,’ Robinson said sharply.

‘What about the angle of trajectory of the bullet?’ Cardilini asked.

‘We thought of that and decided it was impossible to determine,’ Robinson replied.

‘Oh. Right. I see.’

‘What do you see, Cardilini?’

‘I see there was never going to be an investigation. So you got the lazy, fat copper to sign the report.’

‘Have you got hard evidence?’ Robinson insisted.

Cardilini shifted in his chair. All he had was what McBride at the morgue had told him, that it was a shot from around 200 yards with a .303 calibre rifle. But McBride wasn’t a forensic expert.

‘There was bruising on a tree …’ Cardilini started.

‘I read it. A schoolyard full of boys. Half of them would’ve climbed that tree.’

‘It’s out of bounds,’ Cardilini said.

‘Oh, well. There you go. Rock solid evidence.’

Cardilini sat staring at Robinson, ‘So what do you expect me to do now?’

‘Make up a report. A stray bullet from the kangaroo shooters across the river. Accidental shooting. Tragic event. The whole northern bank of the river will be banned for recreational or professional shooters. Job done.’

‘And if I don’t?’

Robinson gave Cardilini a hard stare, then said, ‘I’m not even going to answer that. You’re pissed off because of what happened to your boy and want to get some of your own back. We know you went in with an agenda. You’ve annoyed a number of people.’

Cardilini seemed stunned, ‘How do you know I went in with an agenda?’

‘And I thought I could rely on you.’

‘Hang on. If you know so much, why do you need me? You do the report. Leave me out of it,’ Cardilini demanded.

Robinson looked to the side as if reluctant to reply then said, ‘You’re starting to look like dead weight around the department. And I thought it was something you could handle quickly. Keep everyone happy. Not like that robbery you’ve been sitting on for a week.’

Cardilini sat up straighter. ‘That’s an exaggeration.’

‘How long do you think you can stretch that case out for?’ Robinson asked.

‘I have a suspect,’ Cardilini evaded Robinson’s question.

Robinson sat back with a sigh and pushed a bit of paper around with his finger for a moment before asking, ‘What did you think of Salt?’

‘I’ll reserve my judgment,’ Cardilini replied.

‘That would be a first. Is he a good copper?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Will he make a good copper?’

‘Why’re you asking me?’

‘Come on, Cardilini I’m not asking as your super, it’s just you and me talking here. The department is going to invest in this kid, send him to university; it’s the commissioner’s idea. He wants to know what a real copper thinks of him.’

‘Oh, I’m a real copper now, am I?’

‘See, obstructive. You know what I mean. Before Betty’s death there wasn’t any better …’

Cardilini stood, angry, ‘I’m not listening to any of this bullshit.’

‘Sit down, Cardilini,’ Robinson growled. Cardilini stood defiant. Robinson relaxed, ‘Okay. I know who you were and you know who you were. Let’s leave it at that.’

‘Okay,’ Cardilini sat and asked, ‘What about forensics?’

‘They’re down there now. Bloody McBride misplaced the body,’ Robinson answered.

‘Why didn’t you get forensics on the scene this morning?’

‘We were going to, of course, but basically talked ourselves out of it. The range from across the river fitted perfectly with the angle of the shot. And the boys would have been arriving shortly. The sixth form had exams. It just seemed a bit bloody minded to put everyone through the ringer when both the deputy commissioner and I were certain what happened.’

‘How did you know about the range of the shot?’

‘I rang Acorn.’

‘I was just talking to Acorn and he hadn’t heard of a shooting at St Nicholas,’ Cardilini replied.

Robinson raised his eyebrows, ‘Checking up on me, now?’

‘No.’

‘I didn’t mention St Nicholas to Acorn. A .303 is deadly at a mile. The opposite riverbank is maybe eight hundred yards. According to Salt’s notes you figured that out anyway.’

‘It never occurred to you that he could have been shot from the school grounds?’

‘No, it didn’t occur to us. What did occur to us was that those crazy bastards across the river, that the local coppers can’t seem to catch, were shooting roos at the time Edmund was shot,’ Robinson said.

‘Yeah. But it would make perfect cover.’

‘A marksman? A .303? Hundreds of boys, twenty teachers, don’t you think it would have been reported?’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘Maybe? Are you kidding me?’ Robinson asked in disbelief.

‘How do you know the body had been there seven hours?’ Cardilini asked.

‘The doctor, but anyway, forensics have it now.’

‘You had a doctor there?’ Cardilini looked surprised.

‘Of course, you idiot. We do know a little about due process.’

‘I didn’t get a doctor’s certificate stating death.’

‘You didn’t need a degree to figure cause of death on this one. However, there’s a certificate in the tubes somewhere. Ask at secretarial.’

‘Was your doctor an old boy of St Nicholas?’

‘Yep. Seemed the best thing.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Sure. And the bullet?’ Cardilini asked.

Robinson looked thoughtful and said, ‘A student, exiting via the fire-escape, is a possibility.’

‘What was a student doing there? What time did he exit? What time was the blood left on the steps?’ Cardilini asked.

‘All right. Okay. I get it. Yes. In an ideal world we wait for forensics. Point taken. But the living are worth protecting, too, Cardilini.’ Robinson adjusted a pen on his desk before asking, ‘How’s your boy doing?’

‘What? Oh. Pain in the arse,’ Cardilini replied.

‘Working?’

‘No.’

‘Would he still be keen on going to the academy?’

‘He would, why?’

‘Just interest,’ Robinson replied.

‘I didn’t think they would consider him now,’ Cardilini said, puzzled.

‘Of course … the right word …’ Robinson nodded his head slightly to indicate it could happen.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. He would be starting next year.’

‘Are you bloody kidding me?’ Cardilini sat forward eagerly.

‘No. It was always on the cards.’

‘But he stuffed up?’

‘The right word, Cardilini, can change a lot of things. You know that.’

‘Yeah, but I just thought …’

‘Anyway. I’ll leave that to you and Paul to discuss. It’s a great chance. Try not to blow it, Cardilini.’

‘So, what does that mean?’

‘Nothing. You’ve got a job to do. Get on with it.’ Robinson pulled a file towards him, ‘And don’t forget Salt, we want him to get a real sense of how things work. Mentor him.’

‘I’m the last person to mentor anyone.’

Robinson replied dismissively, ‘Do your job, Cardilini. I want a report, Thursday. Forty-eight hours. Now, I’ll catch you later. And take Salt’s notes.’

Cardilini left the super’s office confused.

‘Did he chew your balls, Cardilini?’ Bishop yelled as Cardilini walked past.

‘Paul could get into the academy,’ a troubled Cardilini replied.

‘I’ll be buggered,’ Bishop declared.

At his desk Cardilini drew a diagram of his own from Salt’s notes and stuffed it into his pocket.