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Back Man at the Window Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. One
  3. Two
  4. Three
  5. Four
  6. Five
  7. Six
  8. Seven
  9. Eight
  10. Nine
  11. Ten
  12. Eleven
  13. Twelve
  14. Thirteen
  15. Fourteen
  16. Fifteen
  17. Sixteen
  18. Seventeen
  19. Eighteen
  20. Nineteen
  21. Twenty
  22. Twenty-One
  23. Twenty-Two
  24. Twenty-Three
  25. Twenty-Four
  26. Twenty-Five
  27. Twenty-Six
  28. Twenty-Seven
  29. Twenty-Eight
  30. Twenty-Nine
  31. Thirty
  32. Thirty-One
  33. Thirty-Two
  34. Thirty-Three
  35. Thirty-Four
  36. Thirty-Five
  37. Thirty-Six
  38. Thirty-Seven
  39. Thirty-Eight
  40. Thirty-Nine
  41. Forty
  42. Forty-One
  43. Forty-Two
  44. Forty-Three
  45. Forty-Four
  46. Forty-Five
  47. Forty-Six
  48. Forty-Seven
  49. Forty-Eight
  50. Forty-Nine
  51. Fifty
  52. Fifty-One
  53. Fifty-Two
  54. Fifty-Three
  55. Fifty-Four
  56. Fifty-Five
  57. Fifty-Six
  58. Fifty-Seven
  59. Fifty-Eight
  60. Acknowledgements
  61. About the author

Bishop nodded. ‘Yep. And you wonder why no one wants to work with you.’

Forty-Two

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.