Thirty-two
Day 12
Kilkenny Road
8.15 a.m. Thursday, 5th November 1965
Cardilini and Paul cleaned up after breakfast.
‘So what’s your plan today, Paul?’ Cardilini asked.
‘Going to the library again. I might finish my leaving certificate through a technical college.’
‘Don’t jeopardise the academy,’ Cardilini said absently.
‘You’re telling me not to jeopardise the academy?’
‘No just …’ he caught a glimpse of Paul’s eyes ‘… I have a few calls to make then I’m heading out.’
‘I’d be going in the evenings.’
‘That’s good. That’s very good son.’
‘Yeah, very good. You’re not doing anything to muck it up are you?’
‘No. No.’ Cardilini said, all but tiptoeing from the kitchen. He stood with his hand poised over the phone, I’m doing the right thing, he told himself, I’m doing what’s needed for Paul and me.
His first call to Great Southern Rail confirmed the dates of Williamson’s train arrival in Perth. From the Sydney train the passengers changed to the Perth train in Adelaide. The clerk thought a train manifest might be available at Sydney or Adelaide but not in Perth. He couldn’t say if the passengers were checked at Adelaide.
The Adelaide Trans Australian Airways office provided a list of flights accessible to the Sydney train’s arrival into Adelaide. Williamson could disembark the train in Adelaide, take a taxi to the airport, catch a flight and be in Perth two days before the train’s arrival. A copy of their flight manifests would be sent to the East Perth station.
***
Cardilini dumped the bulk of his chest on the counter of the typists’ pool. On seeing him, Mrs Andreoli, an attractive blonde woman in her fifties, continued her typing.
‘Hi, darling, I’m expecting a radio facsimile,’ Cardilini said.
‘I’m expecting a new car, darling, but I don’t think I’ll get it.’
‘Very funny. Can you check?’
‘Don’t need to. I can hear the bloody thing when something comes through. I’ll put it in your pigeonhole.’
‘It’s important.’
‘You should see the bucket of bolts I’m driving.’
‘Don’t forget.’
‘I’ve already forgotten.’ And she waved him away.
Cardilini stood staring at Mrs Andreoli. They had once been very friendly. He walked away wondering how much of a pain in the arse he must have been the past year.
***
Cardilini rang Constable Saunders in Williams. ‘Hi Saunders, it’s Cardilini.’
‘How did you go with Sheppard?’ There was a little smile in the question.
‘Interesting fellow. Does he have a .303?’
‘Yep.’
‘Do you think he could shoot someone?’
‘Why not? If he had reason.’
‘He has reason.’
‘Then,’ a firm response, ‘yep.’
‘Could you check around to see if he’s capable of hitting a target at two hundred yards?’
‘I’m capable of hitting a target at two hundred yards,’ Saunders laughed.
‘All right, a bullseye? A cluster of five out of five?’
‘These guys shoot roos. I’ve been with them. There are half-a-dozen who constantly hit their target,’ Saunders concluded.
‘Was he home on the night of the twenty-sixth?’ Cardilini asked.
‘Is this an official investigation?’
‘No, but …’
‘Can’t help you. It’s difficult enough in a small community without nosing around for no reason.’ Saunders hung up.
It made sense that Doney could also make the shot. And he was in Perth at the time. In fact, there were a hundred farmers with sons at St Nicholas who could have reason, access, and the ability to shoot Edmund.
Cardilini went downstairs to the secretaries’ pool and the detectives’ pigeonholes. A sheet of paper sat neatly in his pigeonhole. Yes. Yes. Cardilini pulled it out and scanned it. He scanned it again. Then, slowly, went from name to name. He crossed to Mrs Andreoli’s desk.
‘Anything else come with this?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, but I’m hiding it from you.’
Cardilini grunted and, returning to the second storey, pondered the manifest. Williamson’s name wasn’t on it. He could have used a false name. Awkward but not impossible. The manifest listed surname, first initial and booking agent.
Eventually, back at his desk, Cardilini obtained the phone numbers of the four booking agents used. He rang them and verified the identity of twenty-seven individuals; five fitted Williamson’s description, three he had contact details for, two he didn’t. He started to ring. The first three provided employment details. Cardilini checked the employer’s number given with the phone-book number of the employer and rang them. The employers verified the individuals were indeed as identified in the manifest. He started on the phone book to find the remaining two. Twenty-one calls later he had verified their existence.
Disappointed, he tidied his desk thinking about his hearing tomorrow when his phone rang. It was Constable Saunders from Williams.
‘It so happens Sheppard was away for three days. He left town on the twenty-fourth and arrived back on the twenty-seventh. He and a friend from Wongan Hills drove to Lake Grace for an Elder’s sale. I checked. They were legitimate auctions of farming equipment. Two hundred visitors went to the town. Farmers going to the wall in Lake Grace means good value purchases for everyone else.’
‘The Wongan Hills friend, was he a farmer?’
‘I’d say so.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘I’d just forgotten. A number of farmers went. They don’t take the wives. So bit of a piss up, too.’
‘What was the Wongan Hills farmer’s name?’
‘Jesus, Cardilini.’
‘Doney,’ Cardilini said under his breath as the phone clicked.
Sheppard and Doney could show their faces at Lake Grace before heading to Perth. Sheppard could possibly contact the farmer to find out when the roo cull was taking place. Then he takes the shot while Doney waits in the car. They had a powerful motive, they knew how to accomplish it and they had the skills and rifle to do it. Now to prove it.
Day 5
St Nicholas College
4.35 p.m. Thursday, November 1965
The boy sat with his back against the gym wall watching boys play handball. He used to be a star handball player, he was quick, he had been one of the best in his form.
‘What are you looking at, creep?’ a third form boy from the courts called to him. He stood and walked away. ‘Creep.’
There was a radio shack near the science department where all the brainy kids hung out. He wandered down and sat opposite its doorway on a low brick wall, looking in.
‘Harper, do you want to come in?’ Mr Copus, his science teacher, asked. The boy shook his head and stayed seated, looking in.
Brain-Box Boxel, from his form, poked his head from the door and called, ‘Hey, Harper, come in! We’re making crystal sets.’ The boy shook his head. He had the feeling he was protecting them from what had happened to him, but Captain Edmund’s dead and no one will ever find out, he reminded himself. He pushed himself from his seat and wandered to the doorway and stood there. Boys were sitting on high stools at a long table.
‘Do you know how to solder?’ Mr Copus called.
‘No, sir.’
‘Better get over here then. Hurry up, you can watch.’
The boy wandered to the free stool Mr Copus had pointed to.
‘Harper, is it?’ an older boy beside him asked, the boy nodded. ‘You can watch me.’ The boy climbed onto the stool.
He walked alongside Brain-Box to dinner. Brain-Box talked and talked, he had two crystal sets and he was going to lend one to the boy. Brain Box listened to his crystal set in bed at night, when the cricket was on. The boy would listen to the cricket too. Brain-Box didn’t mention Captain Edmund or Carmody. Harper thought that even though they were at the same school, Brain-Box must live in a different world to him. The boy prayed as they walked to dinner that his world, now that Captain Edmund was gone, would go wispy and blow away like smoke.
‘Well … well?’ Brain-Box was demanding of him but the boy hadn’t been listening, dark shadows of fear had caught him.
‘What?’
‘Come to the dorm and pick up the crystal set straight after dinner, dozy.’
The boy nodded.
At the dining hall he forced himself to stand where Brain-Box stood and not go and stand alone at the back. Brain-Box talked and talked until another boy told him to ‘shut his fat gob’. After that, Brain-Box continued in a whisper. The boy looked at the boy who said that and felt a stirring of anger and wondered why he had no anger when he was called a creep. ‘You have nothing to fear anymore, you’re a good boy,’ Carmody had said. He looked for Carmody. He was standing on the steps waiting for all the kids to arrive and stand quietly. I’ve nothing to fear anymore, the boy repeated to himself as Brain-Box whispered into his ear.