Fifty

Day 20

Kilkenny Road

6.30 p.m. Friday, 13th November 1965

The phone rang.

‘Don’t get it,’ Cardilini said.

‘Dad?’ Paul questioned.

‘Let it ring.’

‘It might be work.’

‘It won’t be.’

‘My work,’ Paul said.

‘You don’t work tonight.’

‘Doesn’t matter. I’m getting it,’ Paul replied shaking his head.

‘Okay. But I think I know who it is.’

Paul left the kitchen. Cardilini heard him talking on the phone. He heard Paul replying ‘yes’ and ‘that’s right’ several times before Paul called for him. They crossed each other in the passageway. Cardilini gave him a quizzical look, and Paul shrugged.

‘Hello.’

‘Cardilini,’ the caller said.

‘Leggett, what were you talking to my son about?’ Cardilini asked.

‘I wanted to know how keen he was for the academy, and to wish him luck.’

‘Did you say who you were?’

‘Of course. And I asked him if he would accompany you here tonight.’

‘What are you playing at, Leggett?’

‘I’m trying not to play at anything. Why not come and hear what we have to say? Believe me, I want this finished for the sake of the boys, for you and the school,’ Leggett answered.

He wanted to tell Leggett to go to hell. ‘I’ll come, but Paul’s not coming.’

‘You come with Paul and I’ll tell you exactly what you want hear. So will Carmody.’

‘Why Paul?’

‘I need him to witness your response.’

‘What’re you up to?’ Cardilini asked after a pause.

‘Trust me, I’m a judge of the high court after all.’

‘Ex-judge,’ Cardilini said and took the phone from his ear before turning to Paul who stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘He wants you to come.’

‘I know, good.’

‘It’s about the abuse of those boys.’

‘I know.’

‘It mightn’t be pleasant.’

‘Christ, Dad, I’m going to be a bloody policeman, aren’t I?’ Paul answered.

‘We’ll be there at seven,’ Cardilini said and hung up. He swore to himself then turned and said, ‘He’s a real old fox.’

‘Justice Leggett?’

‘Yes. I wouldn’t believe a word he says.’