Perched near the canteen 30 yards from the armoury, he felt the cold cement flattening the soles of his feet as if trying to push him from the earth. The sky, the endless night, calling him to fly like a skyrocket, to burst into a million sparks of light then drop black, invisible as ash. He waited, eyes straining. Nothing. Silence. Until his eyes found a thin sliver of light below the armoury door, a scalpel cut of yellow in the darkness. He sat still, hugging his knees and staring, a fist thumping in his chest telling him he had hope.
Eighteen
Day 4
Kilkenny Road
1.15 p.m. Wednesday, 28th October 1965
‘Dad, I got a job,’ Paul announced on his father’s arrival.
‘How?’ Cardilini put the files on the kitchen table and turned to Paul.
‘I applied, and I didn’t need to mention the charge,’ Paul wasn’t able to suppress a smile.
‘Okay. Where?’
‘Lakeway Drive-in.’
‘Oh.’ Images of the drive-in, summer nights, Paul as a child in the front between him and Betty. He pushed them from his mind.
‘It’s a job that I could keep doing once I go to the academy.’
‘You get paid at the academy,’ Cardilini reminded him.
‘Dad, I know what the pay is. What if I want a car?’
‘We’ve got a car,’ Cardilini said too gruffly as he felt a shift in the earth.
‘My own car.’
Cardilini paused for a moment, then shook his son’s hand.
‘That’s wonderful. So when do you start?’
‘Friday and Saturday nights. Then they’ll see how I go.’
‘I’m sure your bosses will be pleased.’
‘Yep. I’ll make sure they are.’
‘You tell ’em your old man’s a copper,’ Cardilini said and then felt stupid.
‘Dad, don’t be dumb.’
‘A job, fantastic,’ Cardilini replied but felt the opposite. He hadn’t realised how much Paul being at home or being angry at him was a grounding for him. He knew if he didn’t have Paul around he would happily drink himself to oblivion. He started towards the fridge and froze before turning back to Paul.
‘Yes. You wanted me out of the house and working,’ Paul said with a look of concern.
‘Did I?’
‘Dad?’
‘Maybe.’
‘They’re going to give me a uniform and a hat. Remember when we went with Mum, the people behind the counter?’ Paul asked.
‘Yep. Sharp uniform.’
‘Yeah. So what are you doing home?’
‘Just some homework,’ he pointed to the files.
‘Do you want some lunch?’
‘Lunch? What do you do for lunch?’
‘I make a sandwich. I’ll make you one.’
‘My stomach’s a little upset. I might miss today. You go ahead, I’ll take this into the lounge.’ Cardilini gave his son a pat on the back and took the files. He had an overwhelming desire to flail, to fly off the handle and storm to the pub. They could all go to hell.
‘I’ll make a cup of tea,’ Paul called down the passage.
Such a surge of emotion hit Cardilini that he thought he was going to cry. Taking a gulp of air he pushed at the feeling. He hadn’t been sober for this long in nearly a year. He sat and looked at the files as if reading them, but the words were blurring. I’m falling apart, he thought.
Captain Edmund was thorough. Every cadet had a file. Every file had the complete details of the cadet, even blood type. Edmund had written reports on each student every term. Both Lockheed and Carmody had a termination date on their file with the comment, ‘Failure to accept authority’.
Lockheed was expelled from the school a week after that date. Cardilini checked for Lockheed’s address.
‘I’m going out and taking the car,’ Cardilini called.
‘It would be good if you could come to Aunty Roslyn’s for dinner tonight.’
‘We’ll see,’ Cardilini said and started for the door.
Claremont
2.45 p.m. Wednesday, 28th October 1965
Lockheed lived in Claremont. Cardilini pulled up at a single level red brick house with a ‘For Sale’ sign in the front yard. He knocked. A woman in a blue blouse and slacks opened the door. A dark blue band held her blonde hair back. Thin wrinkles gathered under her eyes giving her attractive face a harried expression.
‘Yes?’
‘Mrs Lockheed?’ Cardilini asked watching her wary eyes.
‘Yes.’
‘Detective Sergeant Cardilini.’
‘Yes?’ Mrs Lockheed asked without a hint of interest.
‘Is your son home?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘You heard about the death of Captain Edmund?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’re following up on any student who had a falling-out with him,’ Cardilini tried to capture an official tone.
‘Why?’
‘Just procedure.’
‘I heard it was an accident,’ Mrs Lockheed shifted her weight and looked past Cardilini uninterestedly.
‘That’s right, Mrs Lockheed, that’s what we’re thinking. Nothing to worry about. He was a strict teacher.’
‘That’s not all he was.’ Flint cracked in her eyes.
‘Meaning?’
‘Nothing. It would just be perfect for them if I was to say anything to you now.’ Mrs Lockheed started to turn aside.
‘Them?’
‘The school principal and my husband for starters. Anyway, let’s get this over with,’ she gestured him into the house, ‘we have a lot to do.’
‘The school principal and your husband?’ Cardilini asked.
Mrs Lockheed turned a stony gaze to Cardilini and walked down the passage into the kitchen. As he followed, Cardilini noted boxes in various stages of being packed in the side rooms. In the kitchen a slender teenager wrapped glasses in newspaper.
‘Detective Sergeant Cardilini, John. The detective is following up with students who had a … falling-out with Edmund,’ Mrs Lockheed said acidly as John looked questioningly to her.
‘If you have any information that might assist,’ Cardilini said to Mrs Lockheed. She narrowed her lips and shook her head in the negative. Cardilini looked to John. He watched his mother.
‘John,’ Cardilini said.
‘Yes?’
‘Why were you excluded from the cadets?’
‘This is ridiculous, you know why,’ Mrs Lockheed jumped in, ‘I’m sure the whole school population knows why. And if you don’t know, ask them, it’s their story.’
‘No one has told me anything,’ Cardilini said. He was trying to understand the situation but nothing was making sense.
‘Did you ask them?’
‘Failure to accept authority, is what’s written in John’s file,’ Cardilini replied.
‘Really? And is that why he was expelled? Is that why we’ve both been publicly humiliated and his father … oh. Do whatever you have to do, but we’re not going through that again.’
‘What? What happened?’
‘The principal will give you the answers. That’s how it works, isn’t it? You’ll all get together and make up what you want. I know. My husband’s a St Nicholas’ old boy. So are the deputy police commissioner and the superintendent. I know exactly how this will end. Experts have taught me. You’re an amateur, Detective,’ She spoke with such venom that Cardilini took a half step back. John sunk into a kitchen chair.
‘John. John. Don’t. You have nothing to be ashamed about. It’s them. They should be ashamed. Don’t, John. Stand up,’ Mrs Lockheed urged her son while her eyes filled with animosity. ‘Get on, and get out,’ she snapped at Cardilini.
‘Mrs Lockheed, John, I’m completely a
t a loss. Was John’s expulsion something to do with the cadets?’
‘I don’t believe it. Who sent you?’ Mrs Lockheed demanded.
‘No one sent me.’
‘Then why are you here?’
‘I need to discount an intentional shooting.’
‘And we’re prime suspects?’ Mrs Lockheed laughed maniacally, ‘Of course. But that would make our complaint true, wouldn’t it? If I went to the trouble of shooting the bastard? But then if I could shoot someone I wouldn’t have stopped with him,’ Mrs Lockheed threw the words at Cardilini, her eyes cutting him so sharply he looked away.
‘Mum. Please.’
‘No, John, I would have shot him. And I’d like to believe someone did shoot him intentionally. Then I might be able to believe in justice again.’
‘Mum. Mum, please.’
‘Why would you want that?’ Cardilini asked, confused.
Mrs Lockheed looked at Cardilini as if seeing him for the first time. Then slowly, as if a new idea was occupying her thoughts, she asked ‘Why do you need to discount an intentional shooting? It was an accident. Wasn’t it?’
‘An accident is the current official conclusion.’
‘But you don’t think that? Why?’ Mrs Lockheed put her arm around her son’s shoulder.
Cardilini looked at the two similar faces challenging him and thought of Betty and Paul. He shook his head, ‘I haven’t said that.’
Mrs Lockheed stroked her son’s shoulder, ‘Sit down,’ she said, ‘ask your questions.’
Cardilini took his time pulling out a chair opposite the pair. Mrs Lockheed sat beside her son.
‘A boy, Carmody, insists the shooting was an accident,’ Cardilini finally said.
‘That’s interesting. He’s the only person I would trust at that school. What’s your question?’ Mrs Lockheed asked.
Cardilini searched in his pocket and withdrew the sketch, which he smoothed with his hands while saying, ‘A number of sketches have been secretly placed at the base of a tree in the quadrangle.’ He pushed the smoothed sketch across the table. The boy involuntarily jerked his head and shoulders back.
‘There, there, John,’ she patted him on the shoulders and raised her eyes to Cardilini, ‘You’re either a complete and utter bastard or you’re completely stupid,’ Mrs Lockheed said flatly.
Cardilini didn’t discount either one.
‘You have a question?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know what it means,’ John said.
He stood and walked out of the room shaking his head. Mrs Lockheed watched him leave then turned stark eyes to Cardilini, ‘I will, never, never forgive those who did this to John. And that includes Edmund. I despised the man.’
Cardilini sat back in his chair no closer to understanding the situation. Mrs Lockheed turned from observing Cardilini and called, ‘John, please come back. We’re not going to be beaten by these people. Come back.’ John entered the kitchen and stood rigid. ‘None of this is your fault. It’s these people who are despicable, John. Remember that.’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Do you have a question?’ she demanded of Cardilini.
Cardilini struggled to ask his question, ‘Can you tell me what this represents?’
Mrs Lockheed turned to her son who shook his head.
She turned back to Cardilini, ‘It’s a discipline. A tradition, apparently. As punishment the cadets are required to stand with their rifles above their heads. It becomes very painful eventually, I’m told.’
‘I see,’ Cardilini retrieved the sketch and put it in his pocket.
‘You came for that? No. They want to know if I still believe my son,’ Mrs Lockheed accused Cardilini.
‘Mum. No. Please.’
‘John. It was that man.’
‘Can I go then? I can’t … I can’t … please.’
‘Will you stay in your bedroom, please, John, until I come?’
‘Yes.’
‘I won’t be a moment. Don’t worry.’ Mrs Lockheed watched through the kitchen doorway until she heard a door close. When she turned back to Cardilini, she had a tear running down her cheek. She made no attempt to conceal or wipe it away. Cardilini found it difficult to look at her.
‘Do you have children?’ she asked.
‘A son, Paul, he’s eighteen.’
‘I have three children. John was our shining light, forging the way ahead for his brother and sister. Now he won’t leave his room. The other children think their father left because of him. None of this has been of our own making.’
Cardilini looked at her, wanting to help but completely at a loss.
‘John has lied to me on occasions. On this occasion he isn’t lying. He hasn’t the cunning to make the story up. If his father weren’t such a weak man he would know that, too. Captain Edmund followed a school tradition in using this punishment. I believe records were kept as to how long a boy could stand like that. But Captain Edmund decided to add –’ Mrs Lockheed stopped as if her words were caught in her throat. Then with laboured breath she continued, ‘to challenge the boys further Captain Edmund would unbutton the boys’ trousers and push their trousers and underwear down to their ankles.’ She swallowed heavily several times as more tears tracked her cheeks. ‘He explained that this was how it happened in the army and if any of them had any aspirations to one day defend their country and their mothers and sisters –’ she stopped again and steeled herself for what was to come. Cardilini wanted to reach out, to comfort her but he sat spellbound, almost breathless.
Mrs Lockheed continued. ‘Then to ensure they were made of the right stuff, he proceeded to flick their penis. A boy at this time might “fail to accept authority.” To the poor children who did continue, Edmund would push the end of his baton between the boys’ buttocks … and that is all I can say. I believe he continued in other ways; very, very evil ways.’ She closed her eyes, her face tense, and pushed at the tears running down her cheeks. ‘We have attended three young men’s funerals over the years. One recently. A very high number I would think. The St Nicholas men won’t tell you this. You would need to talk to the mothers and they mightn’t tell you either. Now please, see yourself out.’
She stood and left the kitchen. Cardilini heard her whispering, ‘John,’ and the opening and closing of a door. He sat staring at the chair Mrs Lockheed had vacated.
Nineteen
Day 4
East Perth Police Department
3.30 p.m. Wednesday, 28th October 1965
‘What happened to you?’ Robinson asked as Cardilini dumped himself in a chair in the superintendent’s office.
Looking at Robinson, Cardilini knew he was possibly jeopardising Paul’s placement at the academy. But the eyes of Betty and Mrs Lockheed haunted him, forcing him on, Betty demanding he be the policeman she loved and trusted and his belief that the truth would ease the anguish and fear in Mrs Lockheed’s eyes. For his own redemption too, he could not give up; to accept defeat or accede to pressure was to guarantee he drink to his demise.
‘You look awful,’ Robinson said.
Cardilini watched Robinson’s expression turn to alarm and felt a small, encouraging voice say this was the only way to his and Paul’s renewal.
‘The Lockheed boy was expelled for accusing Edmund of abuse,’ Cardilini said evenly.
Robinson stared uncertainly at Cardilini.
‘You knew?’ Cardilini asked.
‘Of course.’
‘And …?’
‘It was dismissed as malicious rubbish.’
Cardilini was trying to dismiss the image of Mrs Lockheed’s anguished eyes, ‘Was it?’
‘Yes,’ Robinson said firmly, ‘Braun spoke to Edmund.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘I happen to be on the school board,’ Robinson said, daring Cardili
ni to say anything.
Cardilini considered Robinson for a moment before asking, ‘When will the autopsy report come in?’
‘Probably already completed, check your pigeonhole occasionally. And a copy will go to the Coroner. What’re you expecting?’
‘Calibre of the bullet,’ Cardilini replied.
‘Either .308 or.303 I heard,’ Robinson replied.
‘They have a bunch of .303s at the school.’
‘So?’
‘McBride was convinced it was the type of entry .303s make,’ Cardilini said.
Robinson shrugged, ‘How would McBride know?
‘The war. I guess. I didn’t ask.’
Robinson shook his head and sighed.
Cardilini said, ‘Acorn could test the school rifles for recent firing.’
‘Do you think the roo-shooters are borrowing the school’s rifles?’ Robinson asked dumfounded.
‘Yeah, that’s what I think. What do you reckon? Am I onto something?’ Cardilini shot back.
‘I reckon I need a good reason to pull Acorn in on this.’
‘Could Acorn detect if a rifle had been fired?’ Cardilini asked.
‘Has anyone checked the rifles since the shooting?’ Robinson asked.
‘I don’t know. The principal and teachers didn’t know where the keys to the armoury were. Only a senior boy did.’
Robinson paused before snapping out, ‘You can’t give it up, can you?’
Cardilini glared at Robinson. ‘I didn’t know we had a choice.’
Man at the Window Page 9
