‘Get to the back of the line, Mossop,’ came a voice from the rear.
‘Shut your gob.’
‘Yeah, get to the back of the line,’ another voice.
‘Shut up.’
‘Run crying to Carmody,’ yet another voice.
‘I’ll smash the next one to say anything. He should tell us!’ Mossop said, pushing the boy who fell into another boy in front of him. That boy turned and pushed back. Soon all the boys were pushing and laughing. A voice bellowed. It was a sixth former at a table close to the servery. The boys’ noise stopped but they kept pushing each other until they neared the servery window where they became consumed with balancing their plates on steel trays before rushing back to their tables where two students from each form sat waiting for their meals.
‘What was that about?’ a fifth former at their table asked the boy.
‘Someone pushed in.’
‘Who?’
‘I couldn’t see.’
‘Rubbish.’
Someone at the table whispered, ‘Creep.’
‘That’s enough of that,’ the sixth former said without looking up.
‘He knows who pushed in, but he won’t say,’ the fifth former said to the older boy, who in turn looked up as if to say, ‘who cares?’ then continued eating.
‘He should say if I ask him,’ the fifth former complained.
‘Do you know, Harper?’ the sixth former asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell?’
‘It’s disloyal, sir.’
Laughter broke out at the table.
‘You don’t call me sir,’ the sixth former said. Then turning to the fifth form boy asked, ‘Are you happy with that?’
‘He shouldn’t have answered me like that.’
‘He’s right, Harper, you got that?’ the sixth former said.
‘Yeah, creep,’ someone whispered.
‘That you, Dillon?’ the sixth former asked and continued eating.
‘Yes.’
‘Yard duty after lunch. You make sure he does it,’ he said to the fifth former who nodded his approval. The third former, Dillon, gave the boy a threatening grimace.
The sixth former wrapped it up with, ‘Harper, straight after lunch you get your brother and wait for me on the steps.’
‘Yes.’
***
As soon as the students were dismissed, the boy scurried between chairs to where his brother sat. He rapidly said what was required. His brother looked back miserably and nodded bleakly. They stood several yards apart on the steps outside the dining hall. The sixth former eventually approached them and signalled them to stand together so he could talk to them.
‘I want the name-calling of your brother to stop.’
The boy’s brother looked back hopelessly, ‘What can I do?’
‘Don’t you think it offensive?’ the sixth former asked.
His brother tried to avoid the question with movements of his body and head. He eventually said he didn’t think he could stop the name-calling. The sixth former looked out into the quadrangle where a few boys wandered the paths while others were in the shade of the cloisters. The two brothers stood in a wretched state before him.
‘Do you want it to stop, Harper?’
With a shy look to his brother the boy replied, ‘I don’t care.’
‘Still, it shouldn’t happen. I’ll see what I can do,’ the sixth former said.
‘Sometimes that makes it worse,’ the boy piped up.
The sixth former nodded his head, ‘I’ve seen. You try and ignore them then. But I can’t have it said in my presence, understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes,’ his brother echoed.
‘Right, off you go.’
The brothers walked down the steps, separating to walk opposite ways. His brother turned.
‘Who’s the worst?’ he called.
‘Third formers.’
‘Who?’
The boy shrugged his shoulders.
‘Give me one name,’ his brother demanded. The boy knew it meant his brother would have to fight the boy, which was demeaning, as his brother was in fourth form.
‘I don’t know their names.’
His brother looked back with understanding then asked, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I think it’ll stop,’ the boy replied.
‘How? Carmody? You be careful. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of Carmody.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘I’m sorry,’ His brother whispered and walked away.
Left alone on the stairs, the boy looked around for somewhere out of the way to spend the fifteen minutes before next period.
Thirty-five
Day 14
Kilkenny Road
5.30 a.m. Saturday, 7th November 1965
Late afternoon Cardilini had weeded the backyard, planted runners and was now pruning one of the bottlebrush trees. Betty had previously instructed him in the task but he wasn’t sure if this was the right time to prune them. Even so, he had a mental picture of how it used to be and a strong urge to make it right again. Climbing down from the ladder, he stood back to assess his work. The tree looked like it was leaning to one side.
‘Dad, Phone!’ Paul called from the back verandah.
‘Take a message.’
‘It’s Superintendent Robinson, he said it was important.’
Cardilini smiled. ‘Good.’ Salt would have passed on his response and now, seeing as he was finally playing their game, he hoped it would be Robinson calling to say Mossop had withdrawn his accusations. ‘Paul, how does that look?’ he asked pointing to the tree.
‘You’ve cut it all lopsided,’ Paul said and returned to the house.
Oh well, next year, Cardilini thought and followed him in.
‘Robinson.’
‘Three other boys have stepped forward as witnesses.’
Cardilini’s jaw hung slackly as he took that in. ‘Impossible.’
‘What on earth is going on, Cardilini?’ Robinson asked, ‘What did you do at that school?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Well, the boys have fronted up to the principal. He thinks they’re lying but they remain adamant they saw you. He’s asking me what to do. Are you sure there was nothing to even suggest what they’re claiming?’
‘No, no! Ridiculous. Wasn’t it supposed to have happened in the classroom? Where were these boys? Hiding under the desks?’ Cardilini asked and waited as the phone went silent.
Then Robinson spoke. ‘Exactly, but, Braun would like some reassurance. Do you mind going out there and showing where it took place? Just so we can discount this last trio?’
‘Nothing took place. I walked out of the room they’d given us for the interviews and that little jackass followed. He basically told me it was a set-up and would stop when I stopped investigating Edmund’s death.’
‘When? You’re suspended. You’re not investigating anything are you?’
‘No …’
‘Bloody hell, what have you been doing?’
‘Nothing, really.’
‘When did this kid tell you he was “setting you up”?’
‘At East Perth.’
‘Where?’
Cardilini took a breath and shaking his head exhaled. ‘In the toilet.’
Cardilini imagined Robinson jumping from his chair. ‘What? Who else was there?’
‘No one.’
A pause before, ‘And he was in there?’
‘No, he followed me in.’
‘You should have left straight away.’
‘I was taking a piss,’ Cardilini said indignant.
‘Bloody hell. That’s all we need.’
‘Nothing happened.’
‘You piss with your dick in your hand, I suppose? How do you think that’s going to sound?’
‘I know who’s at the bottom of this,’ Cardilini said.
‘You are, Cardilini. Right at the bottom.’
‘I’ll go to the school.’
‘Remember, you’re suspended. On Monday, drop by and see Braun and come in to the station on Tuesday. And don’t go to a toilet at St Nicholas College for Christ’s sake. That’s an order.’ A sharp click resounded in Cardilini’s ear.
Thirty-six
Day 17
East Perth Police Department
9.00 a.m. Tuesday, 10th November 1965
‘So, how did it go?’ Superintendent Robinson asked, standing over Cardilini at his desk.
The other detectives at their desks, eager for any interruption from paperwork, expectantly turned their eyes to Cardilini.
‘I went to your bloody school and ate bloody humble pie. What else could I do?’
Robinson lowered his voice, ‘Nothing has improved so far.’ Raising his voice he turned to the other detectives, ‘This is not a sideshow, get on with your work.’
‘We’re interested, boss. It could happen to any of us.’
‘Bloody well better not, that’s why you’re supposed to work in pairs.’
Robinson indicated for Cardilini to follow him and turned to the corridor. Cardilini, with a shrug to his colleagues, followed him from the room.
Robinson was seated when Cardilini entered his office. ‘It seems you weren’t very convincing.’
‘My bet is you’ll get a call. They just want me to sweat a bit.’
‘Let’s hope so. Something else, the commissioner has been contacted by the coroner, Mark Hammer, have you met him?’
‘No.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘Yes. Positive.’
‘How would he know your name?’
‘Why not? He’s seen plenty of reports from me.’
‘Yep. Okay. Have you spoken to him concerning anything at St Nicholas?’
‘Never met him. Never spoke to him about anything. Check with Spry, he did the report on St Nicholas,’ Cardilini said.
‘Yes. Hammer agrees with Spry’s finding.’
‘That’s good.’
Robinson, looking embarrassed, said, ‘The commissioner doesn’t want you talking to anyone, anytime, without running it past me first.’
‘How’s that going to work?’
‘We’ll find out, won’t we?’
‘How long for?’
‘Until we’re out of the woods with this St Nicholas business. Now go home, Cardilini, and stay home until you get a call from me.’
As Cardilini stood Robinson reluctantly said, ‘And the commissioner mentioned he’s getting flack regarding Paul’s appointment to next year’s cadet intake.’
‘What are you saying?’ Cardilini turned cold.
‘The commissioner thought you should know. Just in case.’
‘Paul could lose his position?’
‘No one’s saying that,’ Robinson pointed towards the door, ‘now get out of here.’
Cardilini walked away, shaken. He could manage with the loss of his career but he wasn’t up for being responsible for another disappointment to Paul.
***
‘Colleen, it’s Cardilini. Could we meet up again? Not the office. Where we met the second time. Something you might be able to help me with. Okay. Thanks.’
***
Cardilini was early. The warmth of the day had filled the city. Two oscillating wall fans mounted just below the ceiling hammered air around the cafe. He sat stirring his tea. It was milky. His paper napkin flapped and danced each time the air hit it. He stopped it flying away five times before tucking it beneath his saucer. He had his back to a wall and could see the other tables, their occupants, and down London Court. Images of Paul’s enthusiastic face filled his thoughts.
‘Detective Cardilini.’
Cardilini rose from his seat. ‘What would you like?’
‘I’ve ordered,’ Colleen said and sat. ‘What did you need help with?’
‘Your boss, the coroner, contacted the commissioner,’ Cardilini said, ‘and must have mentioned my name.’
‘Yes.’
‘At the moment it’s very important I don’t create any waves at the department.’
‘The coroner is aware of the complaint against you.’
‘It’s not that. If there was any suggestion, even the slightest, that an investigation into the suicides was to involve me, it could really hurt me.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘What’s to understand?’
‘How could such an investigation hurt someone?’ Colleen asked.
Cardilini put his spoon in his cup and then decisively took it out.
‘If such an investigation was to impact on the reputation of a school and the old boy network, and the simplest way to stop it was to dismiss a detective, that’s what would be done.’
‘And you’re the detective?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you want me to tell the coroner to forget about the investigation, or just you?’
‘Both.’
‘Isn’t that asking too much?’
‘He’s done nothing for years,’ Cardilini said frustrated, ‘apart from pump his bleeding heart in front of you.’
Colleen’s tea arrived. She immediately put the napkin between saucer and cup then placed it precisely midway in front of her. Once organised she said, ‘He has difficulty getting answers.’
‘How can he have difficulty? He’s the bloody coroner.’
‘He’s an academic. Brilliant but not …’ she searched for a word.
Cardilini smiled, ‘… abrasive, pig-headed?’
‘Is that what you are?’
‘I hope not. But I know how to get answers.’
‘That’s right, and you’re not afraid to follow your instinct.’
‘I am now. That’s why I don’t want to have an association with anything that he might do,’ Cardilini said, keen to make his point.
‘That’s disappointing. He was hoping you would carry out an investigation into the country boys’ deaths.’
‘What’s disappointing would be me losing my job and my son losing his place at the academy.’
‘I see.’
‘My name mustn’t come up again in any discussion between him and the commissioner.’
Colleen turned her cup on the paper napkin. ‘I’ll tell him.’
‘Will that be enough?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Cardilini said and settled back in his chair.
‘No. He’ll appreciate your predicament.’
‘Good. It’s very important to me.’
‘I understand. Particularly your boy, I imagine?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Colleen said reassuringly, ‘he’s a very intelligent man.’
‘Wonderful.’ Cardilini felt himself jealous of the coroner and smiled at the ridiculousness of it.
‘Why are you smiling?’
‘Being an intelligent man is not something I’ve been accused of,’ Cardilini said.
‘Intelligence isn’t the answer to many situations.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes,’ Colleen said with a glance around the cafe, ‘he didn’t marry wisely.’
‘Oh.’ Cardilini had not anticipated that bit of information.
‘She doesn’t appreciate what she’s got.’
‘The coroner’s wife?’ Cardilini asked and wondered where this was going.
‘That’s right,’ Colleen continued, ‘she behaves as if his prominence and standing are
simply there for her to shine.’
‘Right.’
‘Some women can be like that.’
‘Right. I’m surprised he didn’t see it when first they met,’ Cardilini said thinking, the coroner being such an intelligent man and all.
‘He has a guileless heart.’
Cardilini had heard enough of the coroner, ‘Another cup of tea?’
‘No. Thanks. I’d better go.’
At the door she turned briefly with a tight smile and caught his eye. Cardilini watched until passing pedestrians obscured her from his view.
Thirty-seven
Day 17
Kilkenny Road
1.00 p.m. Tuesday, 10th November 1965
Cardilini was sitting on the back step smoking.
Paul came to the back door. ‘Dad, there’s a Mrs Lockheed at the front door.’
‘Did you invite her in?’
‘She said she would wait there.’
Cardilini looked around for a place to grind out his cigarette. Seeing none he handed it to Paul.
‘I don’t want it.’ Paul replied annoyed. ‘Put an ashtray out here.’
‘I will … can you just poke it in the garden, somewhere?’
‘Bloody hell, Dad.’
Cardilini checked what he was wearing as he walked to the front of the house. Shabby enough, he concluded.
‘Mrs Lockheed, would you like to come in?’
‘No. Your son was very polite.’
‘Paul. Yep, he takes after his mother.’
‘I’ve come to invite you to the rectory. We’re having a meeting at seven tonight and Father O’Reilly thought it was best to have it there.’
‘Why am I invited?’
‘Sheppard, the Doneys, Mrs Masters, myself and Father O’Reilly will be there,’ Mrs Lockheed said ignoring his question.
‘Same question, why am I invited?’
Mrs Lockheed looked straight at him. ‘We don’t want any other boys from St Nicholas doing harm to themselves.’
Cardilini shook his head. ‘So, now you believe your son?’
‘I always did,’ her voice was definite.
‘Why lie to me and Braun then?’
Mrs Lockheed indicated she wasn’t going to answer.
‘You know Edmund was murdered?’ Cardilini asked.
‘Murdered? I don’t know that. If he was intentionally shot, it was an execution, like Cooke’s, pure and simple.’
Man at the Window Page 19
