‘What does that mean?’
‘It means both sets of accusations will be dealt with without bias.’
‘What sets?’
‘As in the ones against Edmund and the ones against you,’ Robinson finished and sighed.
Cardilini looked back confounded. ‘What? I’m now ranked with Edmund?’
‘The board didn’t know about this until last night. Half my bloody night was spent on the phone. The deputy commissioner and I have appeared to sweep the complaint against you under the carpet, so we’re told.’
‘Who can tell you two that?’
‘A number of people, a high justice for a start. The right powerful voice in the commissioner’s ear and it all gets very sticky, very quickly.’
‘“Sticky”. Oh, I can cope with “sticky”. And all this last night?’ Cardilini asked.
‘Yes. Something lit a bonfire under them yesterday. It wasn’t your visit. We got through that amicably.’
‘Great.’ Cardilini said but kicked himself for thinking he could bully Carmody. ‘So what does this mean for me?’
‘Fortunately, you were already suspended. And you’re not speaking to anyone without running it past me. Right?’
‘Um …’ Cardilini started sheepishly.
‘Cardilini?’ Robinson threatened.
‘What if I could tell you how the shooting was done?’ Cardilini asked.
‘You have evidence? Evidence that will stand up in court?’
‘I don’t have a name. Just how it could be done by people capable and willing,’ Cardilini said.
‘You mean let’s smear a bunch of possibly innocent people to take the heat off you. That would look just dandy. Don’t you think?’
‘Robinson, you can’t hang me out to dry. Not now. What about Paul?’
‘Oh Jesus.’ Robinson sat up facing Cardilini. ‘I don’t know. There are people who could put this on the front page of the newspaper, the department has to be seen as —’
‘Bullshit. Come on. We’ve been fudging for years to cover our stuff-ups.’
‘Shut up, Cardilini. Don’t think you can threaten me.’
‘I’m not threatening you. I’m just saying how it is.’
‘I would have to disagree with you. If the deputy commissioner or commissioner hears that, you’ll be out of the force so fast your head will spin. Got it? This is me, not your super, me, telling you, don’t even think of going there.’
‘I’m not. Of course not. I’m not completely stupid. But what about Paul?’
‘Can we just get over this first?’
‘Robinson, give the kid a break!’ Cardilini shouted.
‘I know. Don’t worry. I know what it means. But believe me, now is not the time to rock the boat.’
‘Oh, Jesus. It’s over, isn’t it?’
‘No. No, I’m not saying that. There are people who don’t appreciate us raking over what Edmund got up to.’
‘Do you believe Edmund was abusing those boys?’ Cardilini asked and waited.
Robinson expelled a breath heavily and answered, ‘I think I do now.’
‘What changed your mind?’
‘Senior Constable Saunders, from Williams, but you know that. He and I were at Kellerberrin together. He rang me. Want to know what he told me?’
‘Yes.’
‘The Sheppard boy gave up footy and going out with his mates shortly before propping a rifle under his chin.’
‘Oh.’
‘Then I got a call from Constable Young at Fremantle. You know him. You could strike a match on him. He thinks the Doney boy drove himself into a tree.’
‘What’re you going to do about Saunders and Young?’
‘Nothing. Their reports were precise. They aren’t paid to speculate. They rang me by the by. They trust me.’
‘You told the board?’
‘A lot of resistance. There’s a group pursuing the coroner right now, and we both know he’ll not specify suicide in his findings. Some bull ant nests you shouldn’t poke at.’
‘Salt told you that?’ Cardilini asked.
Robinson nodded. ‘Yes. But maybe we’re all to blame for this mess. Don’t think you’re the only one in the firing line. As you pointed out, the deputy commissioner and I weren’t as thorough as we could have been in the initial investigation. You produce a murderer right now and it will be our blood on the floor.’
‘Surely, the minister could help. Christ, he owes us a favour,’ Cardilini stated.
‘And if we said anything about what we did to save his backside it would support the theory of police cover-ups. No thanks. Look, I just want you to know things could quickly move out of our control.’
‘Meaning?’
Robinson paused before saying, ‘There’s a push within the school board to bring a prosecution against you.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Would you come out squeaky clean? Factually, evidence-based, squeaky clean? Or are there things that could be brought up, such as lone meetings in toilets or elsewhere that could sink you?’ Robinson asked.
‘Oh, no.’ Cardilini hung his head.
‘Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me. Jesus, Cardilini.’
‘I could have been played from the beginning,’ Cardilini said.
‘Maybe, or maybe you went in as a disaster waiting to happen.’
‘What?’
Robinson replied. ‘You heard. Anyway, that’s what the shrink said. Can’t say I disagree.’
‘Shrink? Bloody Pudsworth? He’s a bloody idiot,’ Cardilini shot back.
‘Yeah, and I know you’ve told him on a number of occasions.’
‘Only because he is,’ Cardilini insisted.
‘Well, the worm has turned, Cardilini. I wouldn’t keep repeating that if I were you.’
‘But he is.’
‘Cardilini!’ Robinson warned.
‘Bloody hell.’
Robinson continued. ‘You’re going to go through the ropes on this one, as in by the book, so there’s a good chance you’ll have to front up to him sometime. Go home. If you’re capable of not upsetting things further, do so. If you can’t, don’t look to the department to save your backside. And remember, even if Edmund was doing what’s suggested, it still doesn’t mean he was murdered.’
‘No. Okay. What if all further investigation to do with Edmund were to stop? And the whole thing was forgotten? What would happen then?’
‘Is that what you’re proposing?’ Robinson asked.
‘Just asking?’
‘It would make a lot of people happy and get them off our backs.’
‘What about my back?’
Robinson considered for a moment then said, ‘I should think so.’
As he walked from Robinson’s office he repeated to himself, Save your arse, Cardilini, for the length of the corridor.
He stopped at Bishop’s door and asked, ‘This is your fault, Bishop. Why did you give me the St Nicholas case?’
‘Your mate Salt will be asking that too. He’s just been bounced to the Wickham police station. He went from a rooster to a feather duster real quick.’
‘Salt?’
Bishop nodded. ‘Yep. And you wonder why no one wants to work with you.’
Forty-two
Day 19
Kilkenny Road
2.45 p.m. Thursday, 12th November 1965
Cardilini was cutting back the geraniums growing wild along the back fence. They were much longer-stemmed and straggly than the last time he’d looked at them. The pungent smell was the same. He wondered for a moment at the fairness of geraniums and their scent outlasting the one who cared for them. To complete the task he needed to stop a number of times and tell himself it’s what Betty would have wanted, but cutting the stalks felt like he was cutting
Betty from the yard.
While tidying up he thought, if he left the police service, without a conviction, there were still jobs available for the ‘right’ copper. Some of those ex-coppers had been his serious drinking buddies the last twelve months. Coppers he, at one point, had no respect for: coppers who were more concerned about their comfort than any idea of justice. They were the ones he would need to turn to for employment. It was a good thing Betty wasn’t here. Maybe he should try a bit of bum-kissing and ring up possible opportunities. He knew if he waited until he was fired he and Paul would suffer. Days ago he had scorned work at the coroner’s office. Now, he could only wish the opportunity would come up again. He decided to make a call.
‘Mrs Pass?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s Cardilini.’
‘I know.’
‘You know I could have been a bit hasty the other day.’
‘In what way?’
‘Making judgments about the coroner.’ Cardilini frowned as he spoke.
‘I think so.’
‘Not knowing the circumstances, and all.’ His frown deepened.
‘I’m glad to hear. Now I’m very busy. Is that all?’
‘Um. I suppose.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Cardilini.’ The receiver clicked in Cardilini’s ear. Maybe you needed to plan that conversation a little better, Cardilini told himself.
He wondered how Paul would feel about selling the house. He was beginning to think he couldn’t keep living in it anyway. Too many things – actions, smells, neighbours – reminded him of Betty.
He rang Colin McBride at the Royal Perth Hospital.
‘McBride, it’s Cardilini.’
‘The answer is no.’
‘I haven’t asked for anything yet.’
‘Saving you the trouble.’
‘What’s your problem?’
‘I got a balling out for hiding that bloody corpse,’ McBride said.
‘Yeah, sorry about that. I got caught up.’
‘So, no.’
‘You told me you thought it was a .303 from two hundred yards that made the hole, right?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Well you did, I based everything I did on what you said.’
‘And?’
‘Could you have been wrong?’ Cardilini held his breath.
‘Of course I could be wrong. But in Europe, fourty-four to forty-five, I saw what a .303 could do too many times. And I knew the distance we were firing from,’ McBride said.
‘Forensics didn’t support your theory of the distance the bullet had travelled prior to striking Edmund.’
‘I read the report.’
‘So?’
‘So? Scientists have to go by the rules so naturally they didn’t discount that it could have been three or four times that distance. They cover their arses. If it ends up in court and they stated a fixed distance, they could be made to look stupid real quick by another “expert”.’
‘But you could be wrong?’
‘Yep.’
‘I’m chasing ghosts,’ Cardilini said, exasperated.
‘Better than them chasing you.’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘Anytime.’
Cardilini considered Braun’s reaction. Maybe he was just trying to cover up the complaints against Edmund. Maybe that was the only reason he was so bloody cagey. Maybe Carmody was just protecting kids who Edmund had got to, protecting them from exposure, and there were never any boots or rifle left. Maybe all that. But his gut still told him Edmund was murdered.
Forty-three
Day 19
St Nicholas College
3.45 p.m. Thursday, 12th November 1965
The boy stood in the corridor outside the sixth form common room waiting for Carmody. One hand was in his pocket clutching the bullet, the pressure and sharpness of it bringing a smile to his face. Across the corridor, a third form boy they called Binder stood on a chair. Twine was his surname. The boy knew Binder well, Binder had hit him square in the middle of the back for no reason, and he’d had a sharp pain there for weeks. He didn’t know how to explain it to the nurse, so he’d just hoped it would go away. Which it did.
Binder was standing on the chair as punishment. A prefect would be punishing him, or maybe just a sixth former. While standing on the chair anyone passing was at liberty to say what he thought of you. ‘Dickhead’, ‘wanker’ or ‘durr’, most of the lower school students would say. But if they were second formers that said anything, Binder would hunt them down and bash them later. The boy thought that worse than a bashing would be the sixth formers looking through him.
Binder didn’t seem very happy. When the boy looked at him, he threatened him with a fist.
‘Harper.’
The boy turned, a sixth former was standing in the doorway signalling to him. The boy walked to him, not taking his eyes off the floor.
‘Your name Harper?’
The boy nodded.
‘Stand inside the door.’
The boy stepped through the doorway. He pushed the heels of his shoes against the skirting. A few pairs of shoes left, then gradually the room quietened and the common room door was closed. The boy didn’t dare look up, but he felt comfortable, he had heard Carmody’s voice.
‘Look at me.’ The boy looked up. It wasn’t Carmody speaking, it was ‘Double’ Daws. He was in the first fifteen rugby team and looked older than the boy’s father. The boy felt a tremor go through his chest. ‘You lack loyalty, Harper.’ The boy’s eyes involuntary darted to Carmody. Carmody had turned to ice. Now he was frightened.
‘You’ve been talking to the police,’ Double rasped at him. The boy looked back in horror, he felt the little world he had managed to build inside him melt away. A breath caught in his throat as his chest and stomach hollowed. He wondered if anyone would pick him up when he fell, or just move away.
‘No,’ trembled from his throat and eyes.
Double turned to Carmody. Carmody gave a brief nod. The door opened, someone said, ‘Out.’ The boy walked out and stood with his back to the corridor wall opposite Binder.
‘I’m going to bash you,’ Binder hissed at him. The boy looked up at Binder in wonder. Binder made several ugly grimaces and clenched his fists at the boy as if at a mortal enemy. The boy felt his legs shaking and locked his eyes on the floor.
‘You’re dead,’ was hissed. Some of Binder’s third form friends slouched slowly along the corridor.
The boy could hear Binder hissing, ‘Hit him.’ A fist landed in his stomach. The boy groaned and fell to a crouch gasping for air. ‘I’m going to kill him,’ Binder was hissing at the passing feet.
***
It was 5.30 p.m. and the day boys had left. The boy sat by himself at the bottom of the steps and pushed his fingers between the bottom limestone block and soil, the depth of his hand, then released the bullet, it slipped past his fingers easily and rested. He pushed at a sharp edge to hide it deeply. Carmody’s ice eyes told him to push himself into the earth. He shook at the image and walked away.
A hand grabbed the boy’s hair.
‘Edmund’s not here to protect you anymore, creep,’ Binder hissed in the boy’s ear while forcing his head back. Four other third formers quickly stood around shielding Binder’s actions. The boy had been caught at the back of the gym.
‘We know what you are. Where I come from we would put you in a bag and drown you,’ Binder hissed into the boy’s ear.
‘That’s not his fault, Binder,’ one of the third formers said. The boy couldn’t turn his eyes to see the boy who spoke, but then he realised he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to recognise him, he didn’t want to see any pain that might be in the other boy’s eyes.
‘Shut up, Slug, or you’re next,’ Binder jeered as he pulled the boy’s h
ead back further.
‘We’re going to come to your dorm at night, creep, and drown you in the pool,’ he rasped into the boy’s ear.
‘Look, his legs are shaking,’ another third former said with a laugh. The boy knew they were, he was having trouble keeping his feet on the ground.
‘He’s going to piss himself.’
‘What’re you boys doing?’ It was Mr Abbott, a boarding master.
‘Nothing, sir,’ Binder said and released the boy’s hair.
‘What’re you doing there, Harper?’
As Abbott approached the third form boys stepped aside.
‘Nothing,’ the boy managed, looking at the ground. The road was rough there; small shards of blue metal penetrated the black bitumen. The boy saw one shard, a pinprick; it would take years for it to work its way out unless the boy helped it.
‘Stand up, Harper. What do you think you’re doing?’ The third formers laughed. ‘That’s enough from you lot,’ Abbott barked.
‘Yes, sir,’ the third formers murmured.
‘I don’t want to see you lot hanging around here anymore. Why aren’t you at sports training?’
‘We’re sick, sir,’ Binder mocked. He locked eyes with Abbott defiantly.
‘Go!’ Abbott yelled.
‘Come on, Harper,’ Binder said.
‘Harper, stay.’
‘We’ll catch you later, Harper, like we said.’ Binder and the third formers walked away. The boy watched the heels of their shoes until he couldn’t see them without raising his head.
‘What did they want, Harper?’
‘Nothing, sir.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish. What did they mean, “They’d catch you later”?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘No one can help you if you don’t say anything, Harper.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well?’
The boy looked for the pinprick of blue metal. He couldn’t find it, and he shuffled his feet and moved his head quickly searching for it.
Man at the Window Page 23
