Twenty-five

Day 7

East Perth Police Department

9.56 a.m. Saturday, 31st October 1965

‘Hey Cardilini, I’m checking your notes. Now which foreign country invaded to execute Edmund?’ Spry, the office comedian, asked as he thumbed pages in a file. Archer and a few other detectives laughed.

‘Very funny. So what are you going to do?’

‘We’ve done it already. “Accidental shooting.” Acorn confirmed the probability of an accidental shot from the other side of the river.’

‘What about the bullet disappearing?’

‘What about it? Some kid pinched it and is now too frightened to return it.’

‘Did Acorn tell you one of the rifles had been fired recently?’

‘He told us one had been “cleaned” recently, not “fired”.’

‘Did you speak to the principal?’

‘Yep. A deputy. A boarder. A house master.’

‘And?’

‘And? What?’ Spry asked palms up.

‘There’s no fooling you guys?’ Cardilini said.

‘We didn’t go in and accuse everyone of murder either.’

‘Yeah, Okay.’

‘Anyway, how’s the bullshit complaint going?’ Spry asked.

‘Internal hearing, Friday.’

‘You really pissed someone off at that school, didn’t you?’ Spry commiserated with a smile. Cardilini nodded mutely. ‘They’ll go through you like a bad case of the trots. Take a clean change of underwear.’

‘Thanks. Did you get an autopsy report?’

‘Not yet, but what difference would it make?’

Cardilini considered this, considered the faces that had led him to be convinced Edmund had been murdered: Carmody, Burnside, Mrs Lockheed. ‘Did you speak to a Bradley Williamson? I marked him in one of the files.’

All the other detectives had walked away by now. Spry pulled up a chair and lit a cigarette.

‘I saw the other boys’ files you marked, we read your notes on the deaths of the three old boys.’

‘Go on.’

‘I heard you had stopped drinking?’

‘Yeah. So what?’

‘Nothing. Just, maybe you’re not at your sharpest here while coping with that too.’

With a shake of his head Cardilini considered Spry and Archer. They were thorough, he’d worked with them both on occasion, and they were the types who always followed the dots. But if a dot was missing they weren’t opposed to slipping one in if it led to the right conclusion.

‘Come on Cardilini, give yourself a break. The word is, the kid who’s accusing you doesn’t know if he’s coming or going. Apparently the principal warned you.’

‘Yeah. He did.’

‘You should go home. Bishop wouldn’t care.’

‘Yeah, thanks, Spry.’

‘No worries. When you’ve got your act together, come out with Archer and me.’

‘I don’t need my act together to go out with you two,’ Cardilini said.

Spry smiled, giving Cardilini a thumbs up as he walked away.

***

‘I might call it a day,’ Cardilini said to Bishop five minutes later.

‘I wondered what you were doing here. When is …?’

‘Friday morning.’

‘Good luck with that. It sounds like you pissed off the wrong kid.’

‘Yeah.’

‘They’re just going through the motions, Cardilini. A kid’s word against a cop’s word. It’s not going to fly.’

‘Yeah. I know,’ Cardilini said. And he did know, the whole thing would be dismissed, there was nothing to back the boy up.

‘It will turn out like the other one,’ Bishop said.

‘Which one?’

‘Didn’t you have some kid dobbing on a teacher, and even his mates said he was lying?’ Bishop said, returning to his work.

‘Where did you hear that?’ Cardilini asked.

‘Weren’t you talking about it?’ Bishop looked up.

‘No. No. I didn’t tell anyone.’

‘It was your case. Maybe Salt was telling someone. Salt and Robinson? I don’t know, it was after work when we were having a drink.’

‘Salt and Robinson? Doesn’t make sense.’ Cardilini knew he hadn’t told Salt; only Carmody, Burnside, Mrs Lockheed and Paul knew of it.

‘St Nicholas old boys,’ Bishop said as explanation.

‘Who?’ Cardilini asked sharply.

‘Robinson and Salt.’

‘Salt?’ Cardilini said shocked.

‘Yeah. Thick as thieves. But I thought you knew that.’

‘No. I’ve been …’ Cardilini didn’t finish, he didn’t know what or where he had been; asleep, in a fog, stupid?

‘We thought you did and that’s why you were keeping Salt at a distance.’

‘No. So when was Salt at St Nicholas?’

‘He went back to the farm at the end of form four. Salt’s old man and Robinson were at school together.’

‘How long ago was Salt at St Nicholas?’ Cardilini asked.

‘Would have left, what, four years ago.’

‘Bloody hell, Bishop, you didn’t think to tell me?’

‘Not really. You’d have given the kid a hard time if I did.’

‘Of course I bloody wouldn’t,’ Cardilini said but thought, of course I bloody would have.

‘So how would Salt know about Lockheed unless Carmody or Burnside told him?’ Cardilini asked himself more than Bishop.

‘You’ve lost me. Anyway, all done and dusted. When the hearing is over and if you’re still sober I’ll give you something decent. I’ll give you a real murder.’

‘Thanks,’ Cardilini said and wandered the corridor trying to figure out what the ramifications of Salt being a St Nicholas old boy were.

Kilkenny Rd

11.30 a.m. Saturday, 31st October 1965

Paul was on the verandah reading when his father drove in. Cardilini sat in his car and ran back over the images of Salt and himself in the principal’s office, of Salt with Miss Reynolds, with Robson, with Carmody. What a fool they must have thought me. He had the urge to confront Salt, blow his top at him and then do the same to Robinson. Yeah, that would work. Carmody or Burnside must have told Salt about coming to see me.

Eventually Paul called out, ‘Dad, what are you doing?’

A distracted Cardilini got out, ‘Just have a phone call to make then I might go out for a spell. When I come back I thought I’d do some gardening.’

‘Gardening?’

‘Yeah. Remember? You used to mow the lawn.’

Paul, then Cardilini looked out at the matted and dead grass covering the front yard.

‘It’s not too bad. It’ll come back. You’ll see come January we could have a lovely, tidy lawn here,’ Cardilini mused as he wandered out and stood in the middle of the dead patch on the right of the path. Runners of grass had sought refuge among the roses and in what used to be flowerbeds bordering the path. Cardilini pulled one from among the rosebushes. The roots popped naked from the dry soil as he pulled. He stood with it in his hand.

‘I never saw Mum doing that,’ Paul said.

‘But, what do you think? Would she be pleased if we smarten the front yard up?’

‘Yeah. I think she would. But there’s nothing to mow.’

‘Okay. You water where the lawn should be and I’ll get the shovel and cut the dead runners from the garden beds.’

‘Dad, I said I was going to move into Aunty Roslyn’s,’ Paul said flatly.

Cardilini tried to look at his son but couldn’t, instead he said, ‘Think I’ll prune the roses.’

‘Did you hear me?’

Cardilini imagined Betty’s eyes on him.

‘Son …’ Cardilini started but still couldn’t look at him.

‘They won’t let me in the academy. Will they?’

‘Son …’

‘Jesus, Dad. You …’ Paul had the words but shook his head and turned into the house. Cardilini expelled a breath and silently finished Paul’s sentence with a series of expletives. He wandered to the roses at the front fence. Long, woody, thorned branches reached for him. Betty’s eyes told him he had to set things right. He turned and walked to the house, picked up the phone and began dialling as he shook his head.

‘Deputy Principal, Dr Robson,’ Robson answered.

‘Hi Robson. It’s Cardilini.’

‘Yes. Should we be talking?’

‘Don’t see why not.’

‘What do you want?’ Robson asked.

‘A chat.’

‘Chat away.’

‘You’re at the school?’

‘I picked up the phone, didn’t I?’ Robson answered after a pause.

‘Can I come by?’

There was another pause, then, ‘I’m going down to watch the cricket. I’ll be sitting on a bench, by myself, no doubt.’

‘I’ll see you there.’ Cardilini hung up. ‘I’m going out, Paul. I’ll make it all good. Just, can you wait?’ Cardilini called and stood breathless in the hallway. When no answer came he walked to Paul’s door. ‘I’ve been put on report. It’s a good kick up the bum. Really, your old man’s trying to …’ his words stopped and his lips hung loosely as he breathed heavily at the door. ‘Just, please … wait … just don’t go.’ Cardilini finished and walked down the corridor. He knew he couldn’t return to the house if Paul wasn’t there. He paused at the front door, called ‘I’m going,’ and listened intently to silence before leaving.