‘What if your and Spencer’s perfume clashes, how will you solve that?’ Spry asked earnestly. Cardilini feigned laughter and grumbled about bloody Commissioner Warren and his grandstanding.
When Cardilini and Spencer were finally settled, Bishop stopped by. ‘Got a minute?’ he grunted before striding off.
‘Does that mean we follow him?’ Spencer asked.
‘Yep. He’s more comfortable with a desk between him and the rest of us.’
Back in his office, Bishop got straight to the point. ‘Cardilini, I want you and Spencer to go see Hardy’s wife, Louise. Give her condolences from the department and say Spry and Archer will leave no stone unturned in finding her husband’s killer.’
‘Louise wasn’t very happy with me the last time I saw her,’ Cardilini said.
‘I don’t care. You were his partner; it’s only right you go, even though things didn’t work out between you. It was no fault of yours.’
‘Not everyone sees it like that.’
‘They’re wrong, and you and Spencer are the only ones not busy at the moment. Besides, Robinson thinks it would be a nice touch, with Spencer being a woman and all. Spencer, the kids’ names are Tom and Pam.’
Cardilini turned and left Robinson’s office, and headed for the car pool. Spencer remained for a moment, then followed.
‘I remember Hardy,’ she said when they found their car.
‘Yeah, he was around when you started here.’
‘I heard he got a little overenthusiastic on occasion.’
‘So the story goes. You drive.’
Spencer got in, shifted the seat forward, put on her belt and carefully adjusted the rear-view mirror.
‘Anytime you’re ready,’ Cardilini said.
‘I don’t like rushing.’
‘No one’s asking you to. I’d just like to get there sometime today.’
‘Why are you cranky at me?’
‘It’s not you. Come on.’
They drove in silence. The two-way radio crackled. A robbery was taking place in Belmont. A woman was knocked off her bicycle in Doubleview. Spencer drove cautiously, precisely. Cardilini knew why he was cranky. He didn’t want to get involved with domestics. They weren’t crimes to be solved; they were sticky, bloody quagmires where pleading eyes raked at his intestines. In the past he’d tried belting the husband – lots of coppers had – but then the wife would get it even worse as soon as they left. Facts, guilt, innocence, punishment and conclusions were his life. What he was feeling now was guilt from knowing he wouldn’t last in dealing with domestics. He watched Spencer turn a corner, handling the steering wheel like it was a valuable porcelain cup.
‘You should change down,’ he said.
‘Is that a command?’
He sighed and looked out the window as he pulled out his cigarettes.
‘I wish you wouldn’t smoke.’
‘Is that right?’ He lit up anyway.
‘This could become very taxing.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘Wind your window down at least.’
‘Is that a command?’ Cardilini saw Spencer cast a glance at him. ‘Look, it’s domestics, okay? Nothing ever comes of them.’
‘Everyone hates them. At my last station whenever we got a call about a domestic, everyone was busy. Then a call would come in about a stolen bicycle and three cars would attend.’
‘Well, I hate them more than everyone,’ Cardilini said.
‘That’s very scientific.’
‘And I will be lighting another cigarette after this one.’
Spencer smiled. Robert Cardilini had been a shining light when she’d first arrived at East Perth as a new recruit. Every other officer saw and treated her as a woman before they treated her as a police officer. Cardilini was different; gruff and impatient, he didn’t listen to anyone and spoke to everyone the same way. The top brass avoided going head to head with him. She’d met his wife Betty and had gone to her funeral. She’d seen Cardilini in pain and wasn’t surprised to hear of his drinking or his suspension. She wanted to honour him somehow, but she was starting to think this partnership might not be the way to do it.
‘Listen, when we get back, if you want out, I’ll support it,’ she said.
Cardilini turned, surprised. ‘Who will you work with?’
‘Whoever they give me.’
Cardilini flicked his butt out the window.
‘You shouldn’t do that,’ Spencer said.
‘For Christ’s sake, Spencer.’ But he couldn’t help a smile.
***
The Hardys’ house was a single-storey standard of the newer suburbs: low roof line, a front porch with a few steps down to a path and a small yard, and a flat-roofed carport to the side. Spencer pulled up outside and they sat for a moment. Cardilini knew Louise Hardy well. She was a good woman. But he hadn’t seen her since her husband was forced to retire. He reluctantly climbed from the car. Spencer followed.
A girl of about eight and a younger boy ran towards them.
‘Are these …?’ Spencer asked.
‘No, too young,’ Cardilini replied.
‘Have you seen a sheep?’ the girl asked breathlessly.
‘That’s enough, kids, off you go,’ a man called from the Hardys’ front porch. He stood with another man. The children scurried away.
Cardilini recognised the man who spoke, Faber, a uniformed copper. But neither he nor the other man was in uniform. ‘Hey, Faber.’
‘Cardilini. You know Lockett, from Wembley.’
‘Yeah. This is Detective Constable Spencer,’ Cardilini said.
‘What are you doing here?’ Faber asked. ‘It’s Spry and Archer’s case.’
‘I was Hardy’s partner.’
‘Some partner you turned out to be.’ Faber gave Lockett a knowing look.
‘What are you doing here and why aren’t you in uniform?’ Cardilini said.
‘I’m a family friend and Lockett’s off duty. Why are you here again?’
‘None of your business.’
‘You should go,’ Faber said. ‘You should be at the pub by now anyway.’ Lockett laughed.
As Cardilini started towards the front steps, Faber stood in front of him, Lockett by his side.
‘Don’t be stupid, Faber,’ Cardilini said flatly. The two men stared each other down.
‘I want to see Cardilini.’ A female voice came from just inside the front door.
‘He doesn’t have to be here, Louise,’ Faber said, turning. ‘You don’t have to talk to him.’
‘I want to.’
‘Say what you have to, then disappear, Cardilini,’ Faber grunted.
‘I’m getting sick of looking at your ugly face, Faber, I think you’d better shift it.’
‘Colin, let him in.’ Louise Hardy, her voice sounding tired, opened the front door.
Faber looked to Spencer. ‘Watch out, sweetheart, he can’t be trusted.’
‘She’s a detective, dickhead,’ Cardilini shot over his shoulder as he and Spencer stepped onto the porch.
‘I didn’t think I’d see you again,’ Louise Hardy said, looking wary.
‘Well … um, the department and I are really sorry for your loss, Louise. We’ll get whoever did this, don’t you worry about that.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘All you have to do is ask and we’ll be there.’
‘Asking didn’t work last time.’
Cardilini rubbed his chin. ‘That was tough. Sorry.’
‘Hardy fell to pieces after he left the force,’ Louise said, entering the house and wandering down the corridor.
‘I’m sorry,’ Cardilini repeated as he and Spencer followed her inside.
The living room and kitchen were clear of the usual knick-knacks that typically
adorned benchtops and shelves. The place was very neat and very sparse. And there was a strong smell of a cleaning liquid that Cardilini remembered Betty using. The tug of it in his nostrils caused him to close his eyes to fight the surge of images. Louise leant against the kitchen bench, keeping her distance.
‘Where are the kids?’ Cardilini asked her.
‘Next door, why? Do you want to interrogate them, too?’
‘No.’ Cardilini shook his head, avoiding Louise’s eyes. He looked around and counted six vases of flowers.
‘Leaving the force gutted my husband,’ Louise told Spencer. ‘He had nothing else.’
‘He had you and the kids,’ Cardilini said.
Louise ignored him and sat down at the kitchen table. She looked again to Spencer. ‘I’m Louise.’
‘Detective Constable Spencer.’
‘Detective? And they’ve put you with Cardilini? Are they thinking he’ll look out for you?’
‘We’re partners.’
‘Be careful you don’t disagree with him.’
‘I didn’t want Hardy out of the force,’ Cardilini said gently. ‘He … he’d lost control of himself.’
‘You could have protected him; even for me and the kids’ sakes. He would have done the same for you.’
‘I’m really sorry for your loss,’ Spencer said.
‘Thank you.’
‘How are your children taking it?’
‘I’m told their youth will protect them,’ Louise said. She turned to Cardilini. ‘How was Paul after Betty passed?’
‘Um. I wish I knew.’
Louise turned back to Spencer. ‘I was so happy when I heard Hardy was partnered with Cardilini. I trusted Cardilini to look after him.’
‘Louise …’ Cardilini started.
‘He was happy, too. He respected you.’
‘There was nothing I could do.’
‘Was she really worth it?’ Louise said. ‘A prostitute? They get hit every day of the week and no one cares and yet they kicked him out of the force.’
Cardilini looked back pleadingly. ‘Louise.’
‘Detective Inspector Bishop said—’ Spencer began.
‘Bishop? Easing their consciences? I don’t care what Bishop said.’
‘Louise, you should get some rest.’ Faber appeared at the kitchen doorway.
Cardilini caught Spencer’s eye and nodded. It was time to leave. They said goodbye to Louise Hardy, walked down the corridor and out onto the porch. When they were halfway across the front yard, Faber appeared at the front door. ‘Don’t stop playing wifey, Spencer, or he’ll turn on you.’
Cardilini spun on his heel and strode back to Faber. He leapt up the steps, punched him hard and fast in the stomach, then turned and casually walked back to Spencer.
‘Keys,’ he said. They got in the car and drove off to the sound of Faber’s abuse.
After they’d gone a few blocks, Spencer said, ‘You can’t do that every time someone says something stupid, you know.’
‘It wasn’t that. I’ve never liked him.’
They drove on for a while in silence. ‘She wasn’t grieving like you’d expect,’ Spencer said eventually.
‘Who does?’
Spencer felt the question was loaded, so busied herself with her notebook.
‘What’s that for?’ Cardilini asked.
‘Notebook. Reporting.’
‘What are you going to write?’
‘I’m logging the visit. Saying that we passed on our condolences.’
‘Logging that I hit Faber, too?’
‘Do you want me to log that?’
Cardilini shrugged, tapped out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth. City buildings loomed before them. He drove across the causeway then turned left towards Hay Street.
‘Did you notice her heavy make-up?’ Spencer asked. ‘It looked like it was covering some bruises.’
‘Don’t start.’
‘But it’s odd. You must think it’s odd.’
‘I’m not thinking anything, Spencer. And I don’t want to know what you’re thinking, either.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Wednesday, 17 November 1965
3.45 p.m.
The call came through just as Cardilini was thinking he could soon stop poring over paperwork looking for ‘crimes of domestic violence’ and go home.
‘Incident in East Fremantle,’ Spencer said eagerly.
‘Okay, get the address.’
‘A domestic, thank goodness,’ Spencer said once they were on the road. Cardilini looked at her sharply. ‘I didn’t mean it like that, God, no.’
Cardilini nodded with a half-smile as the radio gave the names of the attending officers. ‘Tell them we’ll be there in twenty,’ he said.
‘Are you sure? That seems a bit quick.’
‘Just tell them.’
They pulled up outside a house in Duke Street half an hour later. A senior constable and a constable were leaning against the fence.
‘Cardilini,’ the senior constable said.
‘Detective Sergeant to you,’ Cardilini corrected with a smile. They shook hands warmly.
‘Detective Constable Spencer, this is Senior Constable Ryan.’ Cardilini introduced them.
‘This is Constable Appleby. Second month,’ Ryan said. The young constable waiting at the gate nodded. ‘Why all the fuss?’
‘No fuss, just backup,’ Cardilini said.
‘Since when do we get backup for a domestic?’
‘Since now. What’s the story?’
‘Neighbours rang, but the bloke won’t let us in,’ Ryan said. ‘Said something about property rights.’
‘Are they married?’ Spencer asked.
‘No idea.’
‘The wife could be the owner, or the property could be in both names,’ Spencer said. ‘So it’s not up to him. Did you ask?’
‘What difference does that make? Anyway, it’s a rental.’
‘Did you speak to the wife?’ Cardilini asked.
‘No.’
‘She can ask us in,’ Spencer said.
Ryan looked to Cardilini but he avoided the younger man’s gaze. Ryan turned smartly to Spencer and said, ‘If she does let us in, she’ll get a good belting as soon as we leave. Is that what you want?’
Spencer flushed and looked towards the house.
‘Ryan, do you have an honest and reasonable belief the man is belting his wife?’ Cardilini asked.
Ryan looked to the constable who nodded his head vigorously. ‘Yeah. Okay. But so what?’
‘In that case you can go in,’ Spencer said.
‘Your call, Cardilini,’ Ryan said firmly.
‘Okay, Ryan. You and I hit the door. Spencer, you stay as backup.’
Ryan smiled to Constable Appleby. ‘Constable, you hang back, too, this could get messy. I don’t want to send you home with your pretty face all busted up.’
Cardilini and Ryan walked up onto the verandah.
‘You ready, Ryan?’
‘Bloody oath. Just like the old days. It’s a single lock. Should pop if you hit it hard enough.’
Cardilini nodded and as he braced himself to run at the door a gravelly voice shouted from inside the house, ‘I said you’re not coming in! I don’t give you authority!’
‘Open up or we will break the door down!’ Ryan yelled.
‘I don’t believe you! Fuck off!’
Cardilini rammed the door with his shoulder and disappeared into the interior. Ryan followed, stumbling over Cardilini, who’d fallen to the floor when the door had smacked open. Ryan threw himself at the man standing just inside.
‘Constable!’ Ryan called. A scream came from further inside the house as Spencer, followed by Appleby, entered the narrow hallway.
<
br /> ‘I’ll find her,’ Spencer said and vaulted Cardilini who was struggling to his feet. Appleby followed close behind.
‘Be careful, she could go for you!’ Cardilini yelled.
Ryan leant on the struggling man in the hallway. ‘You lay still or we’ll have to use force to restrain you.’
A moment later the white-faced constable returned from the end of the corridor.
‘What?’ Cardilini barked.
‘Um, she’s tied to a chair.’
Cardilini ran down the hall and into the kitchen. A young woman was strapped to a chair with what looked like electric cord. A toaster, an iron and a bar heater lay strewn across the floor, their cables missing. Her top had been almost torn off; all that remained were remnants of sleeves hanging from her arms. She was naked from the waist down. She was bleeding from thin cuts on her thighs.
Cardilini bellowed, ‘By Christ! Appleby, get to the car and call an ambulance and stay out there until it comes!’ The young constable dithered at the door. ‘Now!’ Cardilini yelled. The constable vanished. ‘Ryan, drag him here and cuff the bastard to the stove. Spencer, get a sheet; we need to stop this bleeding.’ He took out a pocketknife and started on the electrical cords which had raised welts on the woman’s wrists. ‘You’ll be all right, you’ll be all right,’ he said in a soothing voice. He felt Ryan push him aside for a moment and then retreat. As he worked on the cord around the woman’s throat he called, ‘Help me, Ryan, she’s going to pass out!’ Ryan supported her as she slumped onto the cord that Cardilini was hacking. He then took her body weight and collapsed back onto the floor with her.
‘Spencer, what the hell are you doing? Where are those sheets?’ Cardilini took his coat off and draped it around the woman.
‘Everything’s dirty,’ Spencer called.
‘For Christ’s sake.’ Cardilini stormed out of the kitchen, went into one of the rooms at the front of the house and came back with some sheets and a blanket. Ryan was standing over the man who was curled tightly against the stove. The woman was lying on the floor. ‘Go and make sure your bloody constable hasn’t fallen asleep, Ryan, and find out where that ambulance is.’ Cardilini tore the sheets into strips. ‘She’s passed out. I’m going to try and stop the bleeding on her legs, so hold her.’ Spencer did as instructed. Cardilini pushed his coat aside and wrapped a length of sheeting several times around her thigh. ‘Hold the sides of that cut together while I strap it, and keep moving your fingers up. That’s it, but faster, for Christ’s sake.’ He wrapped deftly, catching Spencer’s fingers again and again, but the bleeding was stopping. As they worked, they could hear sobbing coming from the man handcuffed to the stove. Spencer looked at him in wonder and disgust.
The Final Cut Page 2
