‘No. I think there might have been another one yesterday when I was walking across the quadrangle but Deputy Principal Robson snapped it up.’
Robinson sighed. ‘Prowling around the school at night. What if you’d been seen?’
‘I knew I wouldn’t be seen.’
‘You just said you nearly were,’ Robinson replied annoyed.
Cardilini matched him, ‘Well, I wasn’t.’
The two men stared at each other.
Cardilini sighed, ‘Okay. So what are these?’
Robinson sat, his manner relaxing, ‘Some kind of silly kid’s thing.’ He pondered Cardilini for a moment.
‘What?’
‘Your behaviour is starting to go off the radar, Cardilini. We’ve all noticed it but it seems to be getting more erratic.’
‘Me?’
‘You’re bringing me kids’ drawings,’ Robinson replied frustrated, ‘And where was your partner? Rule number one.’
‘Salt?’
‘Yes, Salt.’
‘I was going to but at the time I …’
‘Wasn’t thinking clearly, I’d say.’
Cardilini tried sitting shame-faced for a moment while Robinson stared at him. Then he asked, ‘Have you seen this before?’
Robinson stared at Cardilini as if making up his mind and said solemnly, ‘It’s just disgruntled kids, nothing to do with Edmund’s death. Cardilini, think about taking compassionate leave. You’ve got ghosts and they’re stopping you from seeing clearly.’
Cardilini looked back, dumbfounded. He knew he wasn’t the copper he used to be but had never considered he wasn’t capable of the job. He enquired cautiously, ‘What about Paul?’
‘You get yourself together and I’m sure there’ll be a place for him.’
‘When?’ Cardilini asked anxiously.
‘When the placement notices go out he’ll receive one in the mail. Don’t muck that up, Cardilini. Are these all the sketches?’
‘Yes,’ Cardilini lied, hanging his head.
‘Sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Now go. I’ll ring tonight. Go. And if you have any desire to stay in the force, don’t mention these. It’s too ridiculous. You were such a good cop. But I’ve just about had enough.’
Cardilini walked to the door slowly, turning a few times seemingly to convince himself that this was happening. Robinson pointed to the door and mouthed, ‘Out.’
Cardilini hovered at the top of the stairs. He took the remaining sketch from his pocket and studied it. Robinson had said ‘just disgruntled kids’. Disgruntled, about what? Cardilini started back, then decided against it and continued towards his office.
‘Where have you been?’ Bishop called.
‘Robinson.’
‘What now?’
‘He thinks I’m losing it.’
Bishop tried to remain expressionless and dropped his eyes to the paperwork on his desk.
‘What? No pep talk? Not going to say, I’m a great copper?’ Cardilini asked.
Bishop’s expression was blank when he raised his head.
‘Thanks for nothing,’ Cardilini said and walked off.
He stood looking at his desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a framed photo of himself, his wife Betty, and a young Paul. He put it on his desk before returning it to the drawer.
Speaking to no one in particular he called, ‘Got work to do.’
‘Too early for the pub, Cardilini,’ came a reply.
‘That’s what you think,’ Cardilini said and left.
Crossing the car park, Cardilini heard running footsteps behind him.
‘Should I get a car?’ Salt asked.
‘Not for me,’ Cardilini kept walking.
‘Where are we going, sir?’
Cardilini stopped and turned to Salt, ‘What does your instinct tell you about Edmund’s death?’
‘Instinct?’
‘Yes, you’ve heard of it?’
‘Yes, sir. In the academy it’s pointed out that investigating officers following their instincts not only led to a low conviction rate, but also to some dubious convictions.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘The information came from the Public Prosecutor’s Office.’
‘There you go then. They wouldn’t know if their arses were on fire,’ Cardilini said, hearing the belligerence in his voice. He knew he had thought the same thing. Several cases had gone through their department that he knew were suspect. But he hadn’t hesitated to go drinking with the detectives when they got a conviction. He held his gaze on Salt’s open, innocent expression. He imagined what Salt was seeing. He turned and started towards his car.
‘Sir?’ Salt called after him. But it was Betty’s eyes he was seeing.
Day 3
Kilkenny Road
11.15 a.m. Tuesday, 27th October 1965
Cardilini walked into his house. Paul was lying on the couch with a book. Cardilini went to the kitchen and put a glass, a bottle of beer and an opener on the kitchen table. He took his coat off and placed it on the back of a chair and sat looking at the beer bottle. Paul walked to the door.
‘Why are you home?’ he asked.
Cardilini didn’t answer.
‘Go to the bloody pub, that’s what you usually do. Don’t do this here.’
Cardilini kept staring at the beer.
‘Just go. Get out of here,’ Paul yelled.
Cardilini placed both hands palm down on the table.
‘Don’t bring this home, Dad. Not to Mum’s house. Just go. Go.’
Cardilini rubbed his chin and moved his palm across his mouth several times before closing his eyes and standing. He opened his eyes and grabbed the beer bottle as if it was a great weight and placed it back in the fridge. He sat back at the table again with his hands palms down as if he would violently launch himself at any moment. Paul moved to him cautiously and took the opener and glass from the table and put them away. He filled the kettle, lit a flame under it and put fresh tea-leaves in the pot, all the while looking at his father. Then he sat at the table to wait for the kettle to boil.
‘What is it, Dad? What’s happened?’ Paul asked. Cardilini did a slow turn of his head until he faced Paul. Paul was taken aback with the intensity of his father’s stare.
‘Would you still like to go to the academy?’ Cardilini asked.
‘What? The Police Training Academy?’
‘Yes.’
‘But I can’t now, I have a criminal record.’
‘Would you still like to go?’
‘But, Dad. You know I can’t. Don’t do this,’ Paul said, wincing.
‘If the conviction was voided and you were accepted would you want to go?’
‘How could that happen?’
‘Would you want to go?’ Cardilini asked, reigning in his emotions.
‘Yes. Yes. Yes. But how?’
‘You making a pot of tea?’
‘Yes.’
‘I won’t stay. I have to do some thinking. I won’t take the car. I’ll walk.’
‘Can I take the car?’
Cardilini gazed at Paul for some time before answering, ‘Yes. The academy is a long shot. Don’t mention it yet.’
‘But is it even a possibility?’
Cardilini ignored the question and said, ‘I should be home for dinner. Maybe. But you go ahead and eat.’
‘I’m going to Aunty Roslyn’s. But I’m not telling her you’ll be coming.’
‘No. Good idea,’ Cardilini said and walked out of the kitchen.
Fourteen
Day 3
Reabold Hill
7.00 p.m. Tuesday, 27th October 1965
Cardilini stood in a spot he and Betty had found on Reabold Hill. They would stand hand in h
and and watch the sunset across the top of the scrubby banksia and wattle trees. It was here, standing beside Betty, away from the tangle of human misery that was his working life, where he had glimpsed wonderment.
Now, a defiant sun resisted its fall to the horizon. It was the first sunset he’d witnessed here since Betty’s passing. After her death he’d wanted to swear denouncements to God and now figured he was close enough to be heard, even though he questioned His existence. But if there were such a character listening, Cardilini silently informed Him of what he thought of His grand plan in general, and in particular, what he thought of Him taking Betty. To ensure his message gained attention, if there was any attention to be gained, he liberally peppered it with expletives. Cardilini wondered when anyone had last spoken to the great man in such a way. But doing so gave him a sense of relief, and he smiled at the passion with which he delivered the reprimand to someone who probably wasn’t even there. Even so, he couldn’t help adding, Betty was an angel on Earth and you’d better take good care of her until I get there. He wiped away tears from his eyes as he watched the sun blinking through the gum trees.
Gum leaves, a dirty dark-green during the day, became brighter and then, as the sun sank, glowed gold. The trees became dark-waving silhouettes before disappearing altogether. The moon was yet to rise so Cardilini stumbled his way back along the path.
Kilkenny Road
8.10 p.m. Wednesday, 28th October 1965
As he walked along his street he recognised one of the brass’s unmarked police cars outside his house. A knot formed in his stomach. It had been an unmarked police car that brought Paul home that time. Every fibre in his body told him to walk away and go to the pub, drink a calming pint before returning home. But, as if wading through waist-high mud, he continued along the footpath to his house. He noticed, with some relief, that his car was in the garage.
Robinson got out of the unmarked police car and stood in front of Cardilini.
‘What’s happened?’ Cardilini asked urgently.
‘Nothing.’
‘Paul?’
‘No. I’ve come to see you.’
‘Is Paul home?’
‘No one answered the door.’
‘Come in.’ Cardilini led the way into the house and called for Paul, until he saw the note on the kitchen table. ‘I’m at Aunty Roslyn’s. If you’re not too late come over. I’m sure it would be okay. Thanks for the lend of the car.’
‘Come and sit down. Do you want a cup of tea?’ Cardilini asked Robinson.
‘Okay.’ Robinson sat. ‘Where’ve you been?’
‘I was at the park.’
‘Not drinking, I hope.’
‘No.’
‘You haven’t had a drink?’ Robinson asked surprised.
‘No.’
After pausing a moment Robinson said, ‘I might have been jumping the gun this afternoon. Pressure from above, you know.’ When Cardilini turned his head to take in Robinson’s attempt at an apology, he added, ‘Jesus man. You look awful. Have a drink.’
Cardilini opened the fridge door, ‘Will you join me?’
‘No.’
Cardilini closed the fridge door slowly and sat.
‘So,’ Robinson joined him at the table, ‘tell me what’s troubling you about the shooting?’
Cardilini paused and asked himself the same question. His instinct told him it wasn’t an accident. His instinct also told him the principal, staff and students were all liars and that there was a conspiracy at the highest level of the police force to cover up a murder. He sighed heavily. What concrete, irrefutable evidence did he base this instinct on? He looked blankly back at Robinson: Robinson, his mate. Robinson, a smart copper; a copper who only got convictions on evidence; a smart copper like Cardilini had once been.
‘You’re scaring me, Cardilini.’
‘What if I have lost it?’ Cardilini asked.
‘Then I’d say, yes, go on leave, as of this moment. I know the copper you can be, Cardilini, but I’m the last one batting for you. If I’m gone, you’re out.’
Cardilini realised he may have been getting chances for awhile.
‘What’s it going to be, Cardilini?’ Robinson asked.
Cardilini turned to the fridge and studied the handle. He remembered picking it out with Betty. Their first new refrigerator.
‘Yeah. Well. I better do my job,’ Cardilini suggested as he turned back. He wasn’t really sure what he meant by that.
‘Yeah. You better do your job. Do some real policing. Evidence. Facts.’
‘And what if it turns out to be other than an accident?’ Cardilini asked. ‘Not that I’ll be looking for it,’ he added quickly.
‘If it’s not an accident …’ Robinson started then paused, appearing reluctant to finish. ‘I hope to Christ you’re wrong and so far, you’ve got no evidence to indicate it wasn’t an accident.’
Cardilini nodded and tried to ask casually, ‘The missing bullet?’
‘Unbelievable I know, but we can be confident it wasn’t your shooter.’
Cardilini wasn’t going to argue with that.
‘Do your job. Be smart. Use Salt. In five years he could be your boss if you don’t get off your arse.’
Cardilini didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Still want that tea?’
‘No. You have a couple of days to complete the report. And don’t go throwing your weight around. You know it’s a pathetic trick.’
‘Who said –’ Cardilini started aggressively but stopped, partly because he knew it to be true, partly because of Robinson’s expression.
‘Facts. Leave speculation to the coroner,’ Robinson encouraged.
Cardilini nodded. Again he asked himself why he wasn’t doing that anyway.
‘Salt will pick you up the next few mornings, just like he would the top brass. Try not to spend all your time in the pub.’
‘I don’t need Salt, or picking up …’ Cardilini stopped when he heard the front door close.
From the kitchen doorway came a surprised, ‘Mr Robinson?’
‘Paul, great to see you,’ Robinson was quick to smile. ‘How do you feel about the news?’
‘News?’ Paul asked and turned to his father.
‘Dad didn’t tell you? Well, I’m going to be the first to congratulate you. Tell him, Cardilini.’ Robinson took Paul’s hand and held it expectantly, ‘Cardilini!’
‘Paul, Mr Robinson has dropped by to …’ Cardilini addressed Paul then turned to Robinson, ‘Don’t you think we should wait?’
‘What’s to wait for?’
‘Paul might’ve changed his mind,’ Cardilini replied.
‘Paul, do you still want to go to the academy?’ Robinson asked, still holding Paul’s hand.
‘Yes. I told Dad that, didn’t I, Dad?’
‘Yes, son.’
‘There. Congratulations, you’ve been accepted into the ’66 intake.’ Robinson shook Paul’s hand vigorously.
‘Really?’ Paul stared back wide-eyed as his grin spread. He turned his head from one to the other, ‘I didn’t think it possible anymore.’
‘It’s true, your dad and I have been working on it for a while.’
‘Dad?’
‘Your father had trouble keeping it secret. But we wanted to be sure. And now we’re sure. Right, Cardilini?’ Robinson held Cardilini firmly by the shoulder. Cardilini nodded in the affirmative.
‘Is that why you came home early?’
‘That’s why,’ Robinson filled the gap.
Paul exhaled heavily, ‘This is, this is … fantastic. I’ll go and tell Aunty Roslyn.’
‘How’s your aunty? Still single?’ Robinson asked.
‘Yes. Dad, are you happy for me?’ Paul enquired, ‘You look miserable.’
‘He’s worried about you. He’s beyond h
appy. Aren’t you Cardilini?’
Paul walked to his father and hugged him tightly. ‘Thanks, Dad,’ he mumbled, before turning to Robinson and shaking his hand firmly. ‘I won’t let you down. I won’t let you down. It wasn’t my fault, you know. Honestly, it wasn’t my fault.’
‘We know, Paul. Just needed to get a bit of water under the bridge before the record could be voided.’ Robinson put his arm around Paul’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze, ‘Now go and tell your aunty while your dad and I finish up.’
With a last glance at his father, Paul ran out.
‘He looks like he’s matured bloody well. He’ll make a good copper.’ Robinson eyed Cardilini shrewdly, ‘You’ll need to set a good example.’
‘If he gets disappointed now, I don’t know what I’ll do,’ Cardilini said evenly.
‘Disappointed!’ Robinson checked the passageway. Content that Paul had gone he turned on Cardilini and said reasonably, ‘He’s disappointed he’s got a drunken, fat-gut slob for a father. But he’s man enough to still give you credit, still stick by you. Any other son would have walked out months ago. Wake up. You’ve been a bloody drunk the last year. I sat with the boy at the East Perth lockup because you were too drunk to get off your arse. You’ve been given space because of Betty. Now is the time to do some police work and stop feeling sorry for yourself. And I’ve changed my mind, you’re not to spend any time in the pub while on duty because you can’t handle it. You muck this up and you can say goodbye to your career and Paul can forget about the intake. Have you got that into your bloody head?’ Robinson was finished and, not waiting for an answer, strode out the door.
Cardilini threw open the fridge, grabbed a bottle of beer and then fumbled so violently for an opener he emptied the contents of the cutlery drawer onto the floor. He slammed the bottle on the table unopened and stormed out of the house.
Fifteen
Day 4
Kilkenny Road
6.12 a.m. Wednesday, 28th October 1965
Cardilini smoked several cigarettes sitting on the back step. An overcast morning sky hung above him like a sentence. The day hadn’t warmed up, yet beads of perspiration spotted his face and arms. While smoking, Cardilini kept running his free hand through his hair unconsciously. He flicked his cigarette butt towards a withered garden bed then walked over and pushed it and a number of other discarded butts into the soil.
Man at the Window Page 6
