Twenty-four

Day 6

St Georges Terrace

1.54 p.m. Friday, 30th October 1965

Cardilini hitched a lift with a patrol car to an office at Council House, St Georges Terrace. He’d skipped lunch. He’d learnt that suicides in the state were monitored at the coroner’s office and was now knocking on a door on the sixth floor identical to the fifteen doors he’d just passed.

A plastic tag slipped into a purpose-built slide on the door read, ‘Dr Loretta Young’. Cardilini considered the temporary nature of these name tags compared to the gold-embossed names of the police hierarchy.

‘Come in.’

He opened the door. Dr Young sat with her back to a view of Langley Park and the Swan River. She stood from behind her desk and walked forward, her black hair gently curling to her shoulders, eyes dark and skin fair. Her handshake was soft and warm. She had a trim figure and dressed smartly. Cardilini guessed she was in her early forties. He automatically checked his fly and poked some straying shirt back into his trousers as she returned to her desk.

‘What can I do for you, Detective Cardilini?’

‘Suicide.’

‘Yes?’

‘Deaths by suicide at St Nicholas College in the last six years.’

‘Are you serious?’ She asked aghast.

Funny response he thought and answered with a firm, ‘Yes.’

‘It’s not that simple,’ Dr Young vacillated. ‘For a death to be classified as suicide there has to be a coroner’s finding stating such.’

‘Okay. You’re the person to see, though?’

‘I suppose. It’s only a temporary position. I’m a lecturer at the University of Western Australia.’

‘So what do you do?’

‘We do have a record of all coroner’s findings here.’ She gestured to a series of filing cabinets lining the wall on her right.

‘How many?’

Still staring at the filing cabinets, ‘I’m not sure.’

‘Can I go through them?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Dr Young hadn’t moved.

‘You have a reason?’ Cardilini asked, trying to appear patient.

‘I don’t think it’s for public release.’ She walked to a cabinet and pulled at a drawer, it was locked.

‘I’m not public.’

‘No, of course not.’

‘You do have a key?’ Cardilini asked. Dr Young looked lost.

‘Who filed them?’

‘I’ve just shifted in here.’

‘Who filed them?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps Mrs Pass.’

‘Where’s she?’

‘She’s …’ she waved her index finger towards her right.

‘That way?’

‘Yes. I’d better show you. You’re a detective?’

‘That’s right. Detective Sergeant Cardilini.’ Cardilini heard the impatience in his voice.

‘So this is an official request?’

‘That’s right,’ Cardilini measured out.

Dr Young walked past Cardilini, opened the door and walked to the right.

The clacking of her heels as she walked down the corridor told Cardilini that at least she knows how to look the part.

To the right an open area appeared where six women sat, each at a desk with a typewriter. Dr Young walked to the desk of a woman in her fifties with dark, grey-streaked hair held neatly back by an ornate hairpin. She had a full figure, rounded features and clear brown eyes.

‘Mrs Pass, excuse me, please.’

Mrs Pass shifted her steady eyes to Cardilini.

‘This is Detective Sergeant Cardilini. He’s from the East Perth Central Police station. And he has an inquiry about the records kept in my office.’

‘Yes?’ Mrs Pass asked without shifting her eyes from Cardilini.

‘I want to track down any suicides of students at a particular Perth college.’

‘Mmmm. That could be possible.’

‘Really?’ Dr Young asked in some surprise.

‘It will take some time,’ Mrs Pass said.

‘I’ve got time,’ Cardilini said looking at his watch knowing he had no time.

‘My time. I’ve maintained those records for fifteen years. I’m the only one who will go through them,’ Mrs Pass said leaving no room for doubt.

Cardilini turned quizzically to Dr Young who appeared a little upset and gave a slight shrug. ‘That would be the case, then,’ she said coolly.

‘Okay. When would you have time?’ Cardilini addressed Mrs Pass.

‘Why do you want them?’

‘Why? I want them. That should be sufficient,’ Cardilini insisted.

‘Perhaps for you.’

‘Those records could help me identify a murderer. And, actually, I don’t have time. So are we going to do something or are we going to sit on our bums playing pat-a-cake?’ Cardilini clenched his teeth and swore under his breath before saying, ‘That mightn’t have come out as I’d intended.’

‘Seemed clear to me,’ Mrs Pass said as she stood and led Dr Young and Cardilini back down the corridor.

Two hours later Cardilini sat in an empty office opposite the typing pool with three files in front of him. Three St Nicholas boys’ deaths. Boys around Paul’s age. Three families, three mothers, three fathers, three sets of brothers and sisters, three extended families of grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends affected.

A car crash, on a straight country road.

A farm boy who had used firearms since he was eleven ‘accidentally’ shot himself.

Six months ago a boy hung himself on a back verandah. His parents discovered him when they came home from a concert. The Masters’ boy.

Cardilini leant back in his chair and swore violently at the ceiling.

He calmed down and completed a neat summary of his findings.

St Georges Terrace

5.45 p.m. Friday, 30th October 1965

‘Sorry for what I said earlier,’ Cardilini said to Mrs Pass as he stood at her desk with the files. Only one other typist was at her desk. Cardilini checked his watch.

‘Detective Sergeant Cardilini, honestly, your attitude was refreshing.’

‘Yeah, well. I appreciate your help. I might need access to them again.’

‘Fine. Come straight to me.’

‘Dr Young?’

‘Still finding her feet. Not so easy to step into the public service at that level without upsetting a number of people.’

‘She upset you?’

‘No, she’s smarter than that.’

Cardilini nodded, smiling, ‘I might see you again.’

‘You might,’ Mrs Pass said turning her eyes to her typewriter, ‘By the way, these walls, they’re like paper, we all heard you swearing.’

‘Sorry.’

‘No, as I said, refreshing. Not a lot of passion around here.’

Day 7

East Perth Police Department

9.45 a.m. Saturday, 31st October 1965

Cardilini arrived at East Perth station with the intention of laying out to Robinson what he’d discovered and what he was now becoming convinced of. He went straight to Robinson’s office, ignoring the two officers loitering sheepishly outside.

‘Robinson,’ he started.

‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘I was following up another line and I’m certain I’m onto something.’

‘Yeah. You can forget that. Something’s come up.’

‘Wait until you hear what I’ve got.’

‘Shut up. There’s been a complaint made against you.’

‘Oh, shit.’ Cardilini recalled the cold look Dr Young had given him at the Coroner’s offices.

‘It was nothing,’ Cardilini reassured Robinson.

‘I don’t think so, Cardilini.’ Robinson held up a sheet of typed paper with the police insignia and headed, ‘Internal Charge Sheet’.

‘What’s the complaint?’ Cardilini asked, not liking the expression on Robinson’s face nor the charge sheet.

‘Have you had any dealings with a student named Mossop?’

‘Yes. He was a boy I interviewed.’

‘Who was with you when you interviewed him?’

‘Umm. We were out on the school quadrangle.’

‘Before you went out onto the school quadrangle?’

‘What’s this about?’

‘The boy went to the principal and said you exposed yourself to him.’

‘What?’

‘You heard,’ Robinson said distastefully.

‘Bullshit. Absolute bullshit.’

‘You’d have to say that wouldn’t you?’

‘What?’ Cardilini swung his head like a stunned boxer.

‘He also alleges that you showed him a picture of a boy with his pants down and you wanted him to do the same.’

‘What?’

‘Did you show him one of those sketches?’

‘It was his sketch. The idiot’s name was on it. And the pants weren’t down,’ Cardilini thundered.

‘You told me you’d given all the sketches to me.’

‘It was different to the others,’ Cardilini offered as an excuse.

‘So now you’re lying to me?’ Robinson thundered back.

‘Yeah, but …’

‘And, do you have a completed report on the shooting?’

‘No, but …’

‘You’re off the case. There will be a hearing as to what the boy has said.’

‘You know it’s bullshit.’

‘So I ring up Braun and say, “Cardilini said it’s bullshit?” Is that how we’ll deal with it?

‘That’s how they deal with it,’ Cardilini threw back.

‘Were you alone with the boy?’ Robinson demanded.

‘Salt …’

‘You sent Salt off to get some keys. I’ve already checked his notebook.’

‘I’m being set up,’ Cardilini said.

‘You’ve made a mess of this. I’ve put Spry and Archer on to finish the report.’ He pointed outside the office. ‘Give them the file. Salt will assist them from now on.’

‘Salt has no idea what’s going on.’

‘And you do, do you? What? What’s going on?’ Robinson’s frustration was evident.

Cardilini considered his options. Just shut up and let the establishment boys have their pound of flesh to save his job … or go for broke.

‘There have been three deaths in the last three years, one suicide, high possibility two others were also. Edmund has been there four years. I think his death was a planned execution. Carried out by an executioner. This is an attempt to shut me up.’

Robinson looked back in amazement. ‘If we’re talking about the same deaths, I know some of those families. I went to school with two of the fathers. Only one death was a suicide: the boy hanged himself. The others were tragic accidents. Christ, Cardilini. You’re self-destructing. The internal investigation will go through this on Friday. Don’t try to lie to them, it would cost you your job. Now get out.’

Cardilini stood and stared at Robinson.

‘I’ve given you every bloody chance Cardilini,’ Robinson said staring back. Cardilini dropped his eyes and slowly nodded before turning and leaving.