Abraham turned his head from side to side to ensure he wouldn’t be overheard, a movement that sent a flicker of disparagement over his companion’s features. Sure of their privacy, Abraham produced a series of photos of Melody Archer, taken under lights in the front room at Duke Street. She was in her guise as Audrey Hepburn. Ricker studied them, asked a few questions, nodded his curt approval, pushed them aside and looked back to Abraham. Emboldened, Abraham shifted his seat closer and produced a photo of Archie Cooper. Gradually Ricker’s lips turned up and he let out a sound between a bark and a laugh.
Abraham settled back in his chair, glad of having pleased the man. He then produced a final series of photographs. These were of Lorraine Spencer. Some showed her sitting in her car, others standing by her car. All were taken high above street level. Ricker’s eyes were questioning as he listened to Abraham’s eager words. Abraham produced several more photographs of Spencer on the steps of the East Perth Police Station – several with Cardilini. Ricker poked at them, then placed a finger on Cardilini and asked a question. Abraham smiled indulgently for a moment, then spoke.
Ricker nodded his head in a knowing manner. He picked up Spencer’s photograph and studied it closely. He then looked at the other photographs and rattled off a series of questions, all of which Abraham answered. A smile played around Ricker’s mouth. His tongue moistened his lips. He began a slow and almost imperceptible nod of his head. Abraham smiled and nodded, too. Business was done.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Wednesday, 1 December 1965
10 a.m.
Melody opened her hand and smoothed the crumpled piece of paper. Another four days alone in the van had been really boring. She’d tried the clothes, read the magazines from cover to cover, experimented with the make-up. She wished things would get a move on. She was worried about Archie. She was worried about the note. Previously she hadn’t read past the names. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She turned to look out the window of the caravan. With the curtain open anyone coming would catch her eye. No one appeared and she continued smoothing the paper with her hand while deciding if she would read it or not. Finally, she made up her mind.
‘12 December 1964. My name is Theresa Ruben, I’m from Geraldton. My parents don’t know I’m here. Mr Kopecki helped me leave Geraldton and said someone would meet me in Perth.’
Melody noted that the writing then became more spidery. She read on.
‘Two men picked me up; they said they would look after me. They took me to a room, placed me on a chair and told me not to move or speak, and that a film producer wanted to have a look at me. I was to do what I was told. They turned spotlights on to me so I couldn’t see past the lamps. After a while the door opened and three or four people entered – there could have been more. I heard their voices and wanted to speak, but I wanted to please them at the same time, so I smiled. One of them asked me to stand up and turn around. I felt very nervous at that but understood why I had to do it. Next, I was asked to show my legs. I lifted the hem of my skirt and they kept saying higher, but I stopped at my mid thighs. If I had a bathing suit on it would be different. One said I could sit down, and they left the room. I sat and wondered if I should have lifted my skirt higher. The door opened again and the lights went off and the two original men said I had done well and there would be an audition for me. I am now in this caravan and haven’t been able to contact anyone. They didn’t want me to until after the audition. Now clothes have arrived for me. I’d been told I look like Kim Novak and they have left several magazines with pictures of her. Kim Novak is beautiful. The skirt they left is three-quarter length and tight, the blouse will be tight also; there are beautiful stockings, suspenders and underwear, and very high-heeled shoes. There are a lot of cosmetics here.’
That was it.
Melody distractedly turned the paper over; it was blank on the other side. She wondered if she should write a note. She decided Theresa wasn’t like her. Theresa was spoilt, a little mummy’s girl. Theresa wouldn’t have the courage she had. She would be able to handle whatever was needed and live her dream whereas Theresa would have fallen apart, Theresa would have failed, would have been shamed and too frightened to go home. Theresa didn’t have Archie to look out for her. Theresa would be a tramp to some fellow by now. Melody thought about putting her name and a date on the paper, but that would suggest she was nervous, and of course she wasn’t. She went back to smoothing the paper. She just wanted Archie to hurry up and get there. He loved her, after all.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Wednesday, 1 December 1965
10.45 a.m.
Spencer dropped her bag beside her desk and sat down. Cardilini had been looking through cases of women charged with crimes of passion but he didn’t tell her what he had set in motion with McBride, half-wondering if she was still spending time watching Daniel Abraham. He thought it might be dangerous to give her any more fuel if she wasn’t. However, he did let her know they were no further than the day before on the Hardy killing and the three detectives had held the meeting without her.
As she was about to speak, Spry rang and told them to come to the detectives’ office. They walked down the corridor and found Spry and Archer at Spry’s desk. In front of them was a plastic evidence packet.
‘This just turned up.’ Spry pushed the packet towards Cardilini, who looked at it without touching it.
‘Okay,’ he said.
‘It was found in the park. Supposedly the morning after Hardy’s murder. The person who handed it in didn’t leave a name …’ he glanced down at his notebook, ‘… just a male in his forties, slim build, unshaven narrow face, blue eyes, dirty greying hair, wearing a grey gabardine overcoat.’
‘All that and no name?’
‘Didn’t want to leave one, didn’t want to be involved, he told the constable.’
‘It’s jewellery.’ Spencer poked at the packet.
‘Yep, a bead necklace. The clasp is broken as if it’s been torn from a neck,’ Spry said with a look to Archer.
‘And?’ Cardilini said, turning to Archer.
‘And I’ve just come back from Jennifer Clancy’s flat. She identified it as hers, said she hasn’t seen it for a while.’
‘Did you tell her where it was found?’
‘No,’ Archer said. ‘We’ve got her downstairs again. She’s kicking up a ruckus. You can tell her if you like.’
Cardilini pushed the evidence bag back across the desk. ‘I see. A necklace, just what you need.’
‘Take a close look at it, will you?’ Spry tipped the necklace from its packet onto the desk.
Cardilini picked up a pencil and poked at it. Glass beads, shades of blue from light to dark; the larger, darker beads were strung at the centre. He’d seen it or one like it before; he tried to picture it around the neck of Jennifer Clancy. No, that wasn’t where he’d seen it.
‘What’re you thinking?’ Spry asked.
‘I think I’ve seen this necklace or one like it before in an evidence bag,’ he replied.
Spry, Archer and Cardilini eyed each other meaningfully.
‘Could you swear to that?’ Archer asked Cardilini.
‘Did you have a look at the evidence box concerning Hardy’s case?’ Cardilini replied. ‘When he was being investigated for assault?’
‘Yes,’ Archer replied.
‘Was there a similar necklace?’ Cardilini asked.
‘There was no jewellery,’ Archer replied.
‘That’s bullshit,’ Cardilini erupted.
Archer shook his head slowly. ‘Spry asked Rosie to check the box. According to her it wasn’t placed the way she usually places evidence.’
‘What does that mean?’ Spencer asked when the others seemed lost in their own thoughts. Spry looked to Cardilini. Spencer watched their interchange, then asked, ‘Did someone take the necklace from the evidence box and re-pres
ent it, to incriminate Jennifer Clancy?’
None of the others seemed willing to answer.
‘It wasn’t one of us,’ Spry eventually said.
‘And it wasn’t one of us,’ Cardilini quickly added, turning to Spencer.
‘No. Don’t be crazy,’ she blurted.
Spry slipped the necklace back into its bag. ‘Robinson wants us to present what we have. What do you think we should say?’
‘Look, I couldn’t swear, or even say with confidence, that that necklace was the one we bagged after Hardy’s assault on Jennifer, or, for that matter, that it wasn’t returned to her later.’
‘Was it on the evidence list for the box?’ Spencer asked.
‘The list was not present in the box,’ Spry said. ‘Rosie said that those lists often went missing and that she would make up a new one when we’d finished with the box.’
‘Doesn’t seem like a very good system,’ Spencer said.
The detectives looked gloomily at each other.
‘What do we tell Robinson?’ Archer asked.
‘Tell him everything,’ Cardilini answered.
‘What if a defence lawyer gets hold of the idea of planted evidence?’ Spencer interrupted.
‘How could they?’ Archer said. ‘There will be a new evidence box list and Clancy doesn’t remember. Who’s going to tell?’
She felt the others’ eyes turn to her. She shrugged.
‘Robinson’s keen for an arrest,’ Spry said.
‘But he’s not an idiot. See what he thinks,’ Cardilini replied.
***
When Spencer and Cardilini got back to their office she said, ‘All four of us are doubtful now about Jennifer Clancy killing Hardy.’
‘If you have any suggestions, I’m listening.’
‘Tell Robinson what we’ve found, and tell him what doesn’t fit with the scenario of Clancy killing Hardy.’
‘Robinson needs evidence. We can speculate, but a conviction only comes from evidence. As I said already, let’s see what he makes of it.’
‘Will Spry and Archer tell him about the animal blood being sampled?’
‘Of course,’ Cardilini said. ‘You and Spry keep going through Hardy’s past cases, see if you can find possible suspects. I’ve got a few calls to make.’
‘What about?’
‘Following up on what we were told last night,’ Cardilini said. ‘And maybe some other things, too.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’ Spencer smiled and exited with her notebook.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Wednesday, 1 December 1965
12.05 p.m.
The phone was ringing when Cardilini returned to the office with a fresh pot of tea.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Robinson barked.
‘Getting a pot of tea.’
‘Well, I need to talk to you.’
‘Talk away.’
‘Up here.’
‘Do you have milk?’ Cardilini asked.
There was a pause, then an explosive, ‘Forget your bloody tea, just get up here!’
Cardilini ignored the outburst. ‘I’ll have it here first, then.’
‘For God’s sake, Cardilini. Yes, I’ve got milk.’
Cardilini hung up and took his pot of tea and cup upstairs.
‘Sit down,’ Robinson said.
‘Where’s your milk?’
‘This is important, Cardilini.’
‘So is this.’
Robinson clenched his jaw, rolled his eyes and then ferreted around in a small bar fridge and found a bottle of milk. Robinson handed his cup to Cardilini and watched as he poured the milk.
‘Strainer?’ Cardilini asked. Robinson duly found a tea strainer. Cardilini looked at it and then at Robinson before knocking the tea leaves of a previous pot into the bin. He poured steadily. Then both sat calmly, cups in front of them.
‘Right,’ Robinson began, ‘I’ve had Spry and Archer up here. We went through the whole case. I think we are ready for the prosecutor.’
Cardilini raised his eyebrows and sipped his tea.
‘You don’t agree?’ Robinson asked.
Cardilini replaced his cup on the same spot.
‘Christ, Cardilini, Spry said you agreed with everything they had.’
‘We still have more to do.’
‘Like what?’
‘The forensic report on the blood. The lack of any witnesses to say they saw Hardy at the park. All that could suggest Hardy was killed elsewhere and placed at the park with the intention of disguising his real murderer.’
‘The animal blood theory? Okay. I spoke to forensics. Do you know how big their sample was?’
‘No.’
‘Several scoops taken randomly.’
‘Okay.’
‘Christ, it’s a bloody park, a couple of dogs fight, blood is spilt, it’s not enough to throw out the other evidence. The shoe imprint, Clancy’s shoe size, the necklace – she herself identified it – and she works the area. Hardy beat her senseless last time and she carried a knife for protection – not necessarily against Hardy. Maybe it wasn’t premeditated. She can plead self-defence. A jury would go for that.’
‘Would they?’ Cardilini picked up his cup and sipped.
‘Hardy turns up, he’s drunk, very drunk, goes for her, we all know that. A park at night, no witnesses, he couldn’t contain himself, only this time,’ Robinson gestured with an upward sweep of a clenched fist signifying an upward thrust of a knife, ‘self-defence. Hardy staggers back. Clancy watches in horror. She gets up, walks around and retrieves the knife when Hardy collapses, probably dead. Blood loss like he had, he would only have lived minutes. Maybe there was something on the ground that soaked up the blood. Clancy dumps the knife.’
‘Where?’ Cardilini asked, staring into his cup.
‘Drain?’
‘All checked.’
‘Bins?’
‘Likewise,’ Cardilini replied.
‘She rammed it into the leaf springs of a parked car. Car drives off at some point.’ The story started taking shape for Robinson. ‘Maybe the car of a client. And even if he finds it, he mightn’t want to be identified as being in the area. Or the knife could fall out somewhere, or the knife could still be lodged. Point is, we won’t find it in a hurry, if ever.’ Robinson at last sat back and sipped his tea, watching Cardilini over the rim.
‘What?’ he demanded after a while. ‘You’re being as cagey as bloody Spry and Archer. Tell me where I’m wrong.’
Cardilini wondered if he should be leading Robinson to Louise Hardy.
‘What about Hardy’s stomach contents?’ Cardilini asked.
‘Yeah, and clothing, I got all that. The man’s drunk, maybe he wasn’t planning to stay in the city; hell, he could have eaten anywhere, could have a girlfriend tucked away somewhere for all we know. He ate with her, they argued, Hardy goes looking for someone to belt. Wouldn’t be the first time someone gets belted because some bloke had an argument with his wife or girlfriend.’
‘Okay, then, what do you want me for?’ Cardilini asked.
Robinson took another sip of his tea. ‘If it was up to you would you take it to the prosecution?’
‘It’s not up to me.’
‘Bloody hell, Cardilini.’ Robinson brought the cup down hard on the table. ‘You know what I mean. On the evidence, not on your gut, on the evidence, would you?’
‘Is there a rush for some reason?’
‘Absolutely. This needs solving: a copper’s murder in a public park, over two weeks ago; the deputy commissioner’s already announced we have a prime suspect – you bet there’s a bloody rush. Now answer me, how sound is the case against Jennifer Clancy?’
‘The case against Jennifer Clancy is sound.’ Cardilini clasped h
is hands together on the table.
‘In the future is some other crim going to turn up claiming he did the murder?’
‘Four of us have gone through that possibility twice; we came up with nothing,’ Cardilini said.
Robinson sighed and sat back in his chair. ‘Good. That’s all I needed. Bloody tea party. Spry and Archer should be downstairs waiting for my go-ahead to arrest Jennifer Clancy. Do you want to tell them?’
‘Might be better coming from you.’ Cardilini gathered his cup and teapot.
‘Once the prosecutor has this, you and I need to talk. Forensics got back to me on the three files of the girls that were cut and dumped.’
‘And?’ Cardilini said, standing.
‘We will be opening a case file and the deputy commissioner and I want you to head it up.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Cardilini said.
‘You don’t have to act surprised. I know you’ve been poking around already. Is Spencer up to the task? If you don’t think she is we can move her on.’
‘She’ll be fine. I’m gradually finding out she has a lot to offer.’
‘Are we talking about police work?’ Robinson asked with a wry smile.
‘Yep,’ Cardilini said. ‘I’ll go down and congratulate Spry and Archer.’
***
Spry, Archer and Spencer sat around Spry’s desk, a pile of files in front of them. They looked up as one when Cardilini entered.
‘Robinson told you?’ Archer asked.
‘Yep,’ Cardilini said. He sat.
‘He just rang us.’
‘Are you going to charge her?’
‘Do we have a choice?’ Archer asked.
Cardilini shook his head and said, ‘Clancy will be in a bad way in a few days. She’ll need some kind of sedation while she goes through withdrawal. Better organise it.’
Spry nodded and made a note. ‘We figured we’d go to the press with an image of the knife forensics think was used.’
The Final Cut Page 25
