‘The Wongan Hills friend, was he a farmer?’
‘I’d say so.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘I’d just forgotten. A number of farmers went. They don’t take the wives. So bit of a piss up, too.’
‘What was the Wongan Hills farmer’s name?’
‘Jesus, Cardilini.’
‘Doney,’ Cardilini said under his breath as the phone clicked.
Sheppard and Doney could show their faces at Lake Grace before heading to Perth. Sheppard could possibly contact the farmer to find out when the roo cull was taking place. Then he takes the shot while Doney waits in the car. They had a powerful motive, they knew how to accomplish it and they had the skills and rifle to do it. Now to prove it.
Day 5
St Nicholas College
4.35 p.m. Thursday, November 1965
The boy sat with his back against the gym wall watching boys play handball. He used to be a star handball player, he was quick, he had been one of the best in his form.
‘What are you looking at, creep?’ a third form boy from the courts called to him. He stood and walked away. ‘Creep.’
There was a radio shack near the science department where all the brainy kids hung out. He wandered down and sat opposite its doorway on a low brick wall, looking in.
‘Harper, do you want to come in?’ Mr Copus, his science teacher, asked. The boy shook his head and stayed seated, looking in.
Brain-Box Boxel, from his form, poked his head from the door and called, ‘Hey, Harper, come in! We’re making crystal sets.’ The boy shook his head. He had the feeling he was protecting them from what had happened to him, but Captain Edmund’s dead and no one will ever find out, he reminded himself. He pushed himself from his seat and wandered to the doorway and stood there. Boys were sitting on high stools at a long table.
‘Do you know how to solder?’ Mr Copus called.
‘No, sir.’
‘Better get over here then. Hurry up, you can watch.’
The boy wandered to the free stool Mr Copus had pointed to.
‘Harper, is it?’ an older boy beside him asked, the boy nodded. ‘You can watch me.’ The boy climbed onto the stool.
He walked alongside Brain-Box to dinner. Brain-Box talked and talked, he had two crystal sets and he was going to lend one to the boy. Brain Box listened to his crystal set in bed at night, when the cricket was on. The boy would listen to the cricket too. Brain-Box didn’t mention Captain Edmund or Carmody. Harper thought that even though they were at the same school, Brain-Box must live in a different world to him. The boy prayed as they walked to dinner that his world, now that Captain Edmund was gone, would go wispy and blow away like smoke.
‘Well … well?’ Brain-Box was demanding of him but the boy hadn’t been listening, dark shadows of fear had caught him.
‘What?’
‘Come to the dorm and pick up the crystal set straight after dinner, dozy.’
The boy nodded.
At the dining hall he forced himself to stand where Brain-Box stood and not go and stand alone at the back. Brain-Box talked and talked until another boy told him to ‘shut his fat gob’. After that, Brain-Box continued in a whisper. The boy looked at the boy who said that and felt a stirring of anger and wondered why he had no anger when he was called a creep. ‘You have nothing to fear anymore, you’re a good boy,’ Carmody had said. He looked for Carmody. He was standing on the steps waiting for all the kids to arrive and stand quietly. I’ve nothing to fear anymore, the boy repeated to himself as Brain-Box whispered into his ear.
Thirty-three
Day 13
East Perth Police Department
7.50 a.m. Friday, 6th November 1965
The breakfast Cardilini swallowed wanted to return to his mouth. He’d arrived early at East Perth and sat smoking at his desk. He recalled some of the nervous characters he had grilled in the interview rooms. With ten minutes to go he went up to the third level where the internal investigation interview was to take place.
‘You okay, Detective Sergeant Cardilini?’ his union representative, Mrs Burns, asked as they sat in the corridor. She was a dowdily dressed, middle-aged woman with poorly-bleached hair clutching a large cloth bag to her lap like a security cushion. Her arrival surprised Cardilini, not just because of her appearance but because union reps weren’t a usual addition to the East Perth station. Any station for that matter. Most employees saw their allegiance to their colleagues and the department before the union. Even being seen with a union rep could be considered an act of betrayal.
‘Fine,’ Cardilini replied.
Two uniformed police walked past with curious glances to Cardilini and Mrs Burns.
‘You won’t be able to smoke inside,’ Mrs Burns informed Cardilini.
‘Since when?’
‘You need to appear a little concerned,’ she cautioned.
‘I’m concerned. Why do you think I’m smoking?’
‘I think you should put it out before we go in,’ she instructed warmly.
Cardilini shrugged.
‘Did you know Mossop is coming to the station?’ Mrs Burns asked.
‘No. Why?’
‘They might want to verify your comments.’
‘How can he verify my comments? He’s made the whole thing up.’
‘I’m just saying.’
‘So why are you here?’
‘We were asked to come. Maybe they’re taking it seriously this time,’ Mrs Burns said with a tinge of moral indignation.
‘Great.’
‘It’s part of a new look.’
‘Wonderful. So what’re you going to do?’
‘As I said, we aren’t usually invited.’ Mrs Burns smiled comfortingly. ‘Hopefully, you’ll be believed.’
‘Hopefully?’ Cardilini burst. He wasn’t comforted and lit a second cigarette from the first.
‘If I was a detective,’ Mrs Burns smiled again, ‘I would think you’re looking nervous.’
‘If you were a detective, you’d be right.’
***
‘You have the charges, Cardilini?’ asked Winfield, the internal investigating officer. Chapman, his offsider, took notes. Cardilini knew them both well. Detectives rotated through the internal investigation branch. Cardilini had done a stint too. The thinking was, only those who knew how things worked would know when a policeman overstepped the boundaries.
‘Charges?’ Cardilini corrected, ‘Complaint, surely?’
‘Complaint. Sorry.’
‘Thank you,’ Cardilini said.
‘Thank you,’ Mrs Burns echoed. The two investigating officers looked at her then at each other.
‘No need for you to do that,’ Chapman said. Mrs Burns nodded.
Winfield queried the presence of Mrs Burns with a glance to Cardilini. Cardilini shrugged.
‘Okay. So did you expose yourself?’ Winfield asked.
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘An older boy, Carmody, brought the boy, Mossop, to you and you told Constable Salt to go with Carmody, and leave you alone with Mossop.’
Cardilini shook his head frustrated. ‘Not to leave me alone with Mossop, but for Salt to further the investigation, you idiot.’
Winfield and Chapman exchanged annoyed glances.
‘Mossop is alone with you when you expose yourself,’ Chapman said.
‘I didn’t expose myself,’ Cardilini shouted.
‘That is in dispute,’ Winfield said.
What?’ Cardilini asked.
‘In dispute,’ Winfield said. ‘We don’t know the truth of the matter.’
‘Winfield, I’m telling you the truth. There isn’t a dispute,’ Cardilini insisted, ignoring Chapman.
Winfield turned uncomfortably towards Mrs Burns.
&n
bsp; ‘Winfield?’ Cardilini called.
‘Cardilini, hang on,’ Winfield replied.
‘Did you ask the boy exactly what he claims he saw?’ Cardilini asked.
Winfield drew back in disgust. ‘No.’
‘Not that, you moron. He said I showed him a picture, yes?’
‘Right, he said you showed him a picture of a boy with his pants down.’
‘Good. Did he say it was his picture? With his name on it?’
‘Was it?’ Winfield asked.
‘Ask him. He’s here, isn’t he?’
‘Cardilini, you’re not in charge of this. Get that straight,’ Chapman remonstrated with a look to Mrs Burns.
‘Yes. Fine. I understand that. I’m only trying to help. Right, Mrs Burns?’
Mrs Burns looked to Winfield and Chapman before she replied, ‘Yes.’
‘Chapman, check that with the boy,’ Winfield instructed.
‘Get him to explain how he knew the figure didn’t have his pants on,’ Cardilini said. Winfield nodded his confirmation and Chapman begrudgingly left.
Winfield and Cardilini exchanged a number of communicative glances; Winfield indicated Mrs Burns’ presence was a surprise to them, Cardilini indicated similar while Mrs Burns inspected the architraves. Chapman returned and nodded in the affirmative. Cardilini waited before asking, ‘What did he say?’
‘The figure had his pants around his ankles,’ Chapman replied.
‘Thank you.’ Cardilini reached into his inside coat pocket and put Mossop’s sketch in front of them, ‘That’s his sketch. There’s his name. The figure has trousers on.’
‘Hard to determine. Not much of an artist.’ Winfield pushed the sketch to Chapman.
‘There’s nothing around his ankles,’ Chapman said.
‘No.’ Cardilini reached for the sketch. ‘Evidence in an investigation,’ he said to Chapman and pushed the sketch for Mrs Burns to view.
‘He lied about that. Why? Surely that makes everything else he said suspect?’ Cardilini demanded.
Winfield and Chapman conferred.
Winfield unwillingly looked towards Cardilini. ‘Another boy saw you doing up your fly.’
‘Oh. Great. Who?’
‘We don’t have a name,’ Winfield said, avoiding Cardilini’s gaze.
‘You’re kidding me?’ Cardilini burst.
‘We were told just before we came in.’
‘Who told you?’
‘The deputy commissioner.’
Cardilini sat stunned as he stared at Chapman and Winfield. They stared back mutely.
‘What?’ Mrs Burns asked.
‘Anonymous comments aren’t normally considered evidence in complaint cases,’ Cardilini said. ‘Are they?’ he confirmed with Winfield.
‘No,’ Winfield replied.
‘Oh. It could still be good then?’ Mrs Burns smiled at Cardilini.
‘No,’ he retorted, then asked, ‘Where do we go from here, Winfield?’
‘We’ll have to get back to you.’
Winfield and Chapman left the room exchanging confused glances with Cardilini.
‘So, is that it?’ Mrs Burns asked.
‘Yep. That’s it for now.’
‘Oh, well. Nice meeting you, Cardilini.’
‘Likewise.’
Cardilini watched Mrs Burns walk away with a casual air of achievement and wished he could feel the same way.
***
He was standing at the urinal considering why the interview had been hijacked with the arrival of Mrs Burns and the presence of Mossop at the station, when Mossop walked in and stood at an adjoining urinal.
‘Good afternoon, sir.’
‘Mossop?’ Cardilini blinked several times to reassure himself that it was, in fact, Mossop.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How are you enjoying your trip to the police station?’ Cardilini asked looking towards the door.
‘Not my first time. We pinched some bamboo from the Memorial Park in Narrogin for our high jump. The gardener hauled us in. That was the first time.’.
‘Okay. So why did you make up your story?’ Cardilini asked, trying to assume an air of ‘all this is quite natural’.
‘I can’t explain it exactly. But it’s the right thing to do.’
‘Oh, is it? How do you work that out?’ Cardilini demanded.
‘You were setting out to damage the school.’
‘Oh yeah. Who’s the other witness?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘Carmody put you up to this?’ Cardilini said finishing up.
‘What happens is up to you,’ Mossop articulated carefully.
‘I see. You can tell Carmody,’ Cardilini said sharply, ‘it’s another loose ball.’
‘It’s another loose ball?’ Mossop repeated.
‘Yes, it won’t work. That’s it. Did you come in here on purpose?’
‘Yes, sir, to say, “What happens is up to you.”’ Mossop exaggerated his shake and adjustment.
Cardilini nearly laughed, before asking, ‘And if I satisfied Carmody, would you say you made it all up?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Wouldn’t the school see that as very bad of you?’
‘It’s complicated, sir,’ Mossop said and left, leaving Cardilini shaking his head in disbelief. He anticipated a squad outside the door poised to arrest him, but when he left there was no one in sight.
He walked to the detective’s office. Half his colleagues were at their desks. No one called a greeting.
‘What don’t I know?’ Cardilini called out.
‘Deputy Commissioner was down here. Wanted to know if anyone had knowledge of you abusing suspects. No one said anything,’ Spry said with a glance to the office entrance.
‘Thanks.’
‘Stop looking for skeletons,’ Spry said.
Cardilini nodded his understanding. Skeletons at St Nicholas were the last things the old boys would want. And Deputy Commissioner Warren wasn’t going to let it happen on his watch, was he?
The accidental shooting report had been completed. So why is that fat copper still sniffing around? Cardilini figured that question had been asked a few times. A good question, too. Cardilini wished he knew the answer.
‘Not wanted here. Going home,’ Cardilini said into Bishop’s office.
‘Sounds good to me,’ Bishop replied without looking up.
***
‘Detective Cardilini.’
Cardilini turned. Salt walked down the corridor towards him.
‘Salt.’
‘Sir, would I be able to talk to you?’
‘About you being a past St Nicholas boy?’ Cardilini asked.
‘I wanted to tell you.’
Cardilini shook his head. He didn’t want to talk to Salt. He saw him as part of the whole machine that was corralling him.
‘I heard the deputy commissioner has come up with another eyewitness,’ Salt said.
‘Now how do you think that came about?’
‘It’s not the school. I know that for a fact. I thought you should know.’
‘Who then?’
‘Carmody.’
Cardilini nodded. ‘But why for heaven’s sake?’
‘I think some boys would follow Carmody into the trenches,’ Salt replied. Cardilini sighed in disbelief. Salt continued. ‘I remember, even in second form Carmody was a leader. He would stand up to all the third form boys who would traditionally bash second formers. He just wasn’t intimidated by them. Even when he was flattened in a fight, he was defiant and he never dobbed.’
‘Sounds like a thug,’ Cardilini said but didn’t believe it.
‘He was good enough for the first eleven when he was in fourth form.’
‘So he can p
lay cricket. Big deal.’
‘He stood by Lockheed even though he knew it would cost him head boy,’ Salt said.
Cardilini nodded and pushed open the front door to the station. Salt followed.
‘So why am I getting a lecture on Carmody?’
‘Sir, I think you need to take him seriously.’
‘You take him seriously; I think he’s an arrogant prick.’
Salt stayed step for step with Cardilini as he walked towards his car.
‘What is it, Salt?’
‘Do you still think Edmund was intentionally killed, sir?’
Cardilini had been waiting for the question, he smiled at the tremors in Salt’s voice and wondered how far his answer would be reported that night.
‘Not anymore. See you, Salt.’
Thirty-four
Day 6
St Nicholas College
12.35 p.m. Friday, 30th October 1965
The boy stood in line at the servery window. He’d been given the duty of supplying his table with their meals.
Voices, crockery, cutlery, and chairs scraping on the timber floor filled the space. Mossop pushed in behind the boy. This action usually caused raucous complaints from the second formers behind but Mossop had reached the status of an untouchable. The school population knew what he claimed about the policeman. They knew he was taken from class for special meetings. The boy and Mossop shared an accounting class, the class the boy had returned to after speaking to Carmody.
‘Why were you speaking to Carmody?’ Mossop demanded and grabbed the boy’s shoulder. The boy looked to others around him to push Mossop to the back of the line, but they just looked back. The boy looked to one of the ‘good kids’ of second form, a boy not averse to telling the other boys when they were wrong, a boy willing to accept abuse from some of the ‘tough kids’. He showed no emotion; his eyes were glacial as he looked back at the boy.
‘What’s it to you, Mossop?’ The boy said, avoiding the eyes of the boys in front who had stopped their own conversations and turned to watch and listen.
‘We have a right to know,’ Mossop said, some of the boys around them nodding.
‘Go and ask Carmody, you’re his little pet,’ the boy said and this brought a range of derisive noises and grins.
‘Shut your faces,’ Mossop snapped.
Man at the Window Page 18
