‘You’re not just doing it for me are you?’ Cardilini asked.

Paul shook his head. ‘Mum really believed in what you were doing. She was very proud of you. She respected you, Dad.’

‘She wouldn’t be too proud now,’ Cardilini suggested.

‘You stopped drinking. You’re coming back. Now, can I go to sleep?’ Paul said.

‘Everything’s not black and white,’ Cardilini said, avoiding Paul’s strong gaze.

‘I never thought it was.’

‘The law, I mean . . .’

‘I know all about the law, remember. I didn’t steal that car,’ Paul said.

‘Yes. Okay.’

‘Having the charge dropped means a lot. Now, can you turn the light off and close the bloody door?’ Paul asked.

‘Yeah. Sleep well.’ Cardilini shuffled out.

Day 18

Bayswater Library

3.40 p.m. Wednesday, 11th November 1965

Carmody had agreed to meet him at the library. The library presented like an old book: noble binding, embossed title, politically endorsed, stolid, immutable, holding vast secrets and stories. Weathered limestone adorned its entrance and the towering windows. Broad, inviting steps led to immense wooden double doors, secured open despite the heat of the day. Cardilini approached, uneasy.

He checked his watch. He and Betty had gone to the Floreat library. Betty preferred fiction. Cardilini had picked up one of her books. Four pages in, a child had been abducted and suspicion had fallen on the mother for no reason that Cardilini could see. He’d put the book down; he preferred non-fiction, war history mainly.

He scanned the library. Carmody was sitting by himself at a table with a stack of books at his side. Cardilini thumbed through cards in the history catalogue and watched him for a while before approaching.

‘Detective Sargent Cardilini. What a surprise,’ Carmody smiled up at Cardilini.

‘Can we talk outside?’ Cardilini asked.

The park opposite the library offered several timber benches stationed along gravel paths. Cardilini chose one in the shade and sat. Carmody remained standing.

‘How long will this take?’ Carmody asked.

‘Sit down.’

‘I’d rather not.’

‘I want you to put an end to the Mossop charade,’ Cardilini stated.

‘I thought you might.’

‘Will you?’

‘The question should be, can I?’

‘We both know the answer to that.’

‘Next question. Why would I, if I could?’ Carmody asked.

‘Because you know it’s false.’

Carmody looked away.

‘Okay, you win. I thought I was the tough guy and you beat me,’ Cardilini said and took out a cigarette.

Carmody watched him light it before saying, ‘It wasn’t a competition.’

Cardilini decided on a gamble and said, ‘You thought you were protecting someone by removing the rifle, boots and bullet. I get that, and you got what you wanted. A judgment of “accidental shooting”.’

Carmody stared at Cardilini, mouth agape.