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.’