‘Miss Leggett, it would be better if you could encourage your father to just answer my questions honestly and frankly.’

‘It’s Mrs Leggett and Frank is my husband.’

Cardilini tried to conceal his surprise but knew his eyes flicked between the two several times. Leggett laughed, Jean Leggett reached for the ginger beer and a glass.

‘You don’t know who my husband is?’ Jean asked Cardilini.

‘Frank Leggett? No,’ Cardilini replied, looking to the old man.

‘Francis?’

Oh my God, thought Cardilini. Of course he knew who the man was.

And Jean Leggett confirmed. ‘He was the crown prosecutor and then a justice of the High Court. He knows exactly what is required of him.’

Cardilini sat back down. He couldn’t believe that this was possible.

‘Was he an old boy of St Nicholas College?’ Cardilini asked dumbly.

Leggett laughed out loud, Jean joined in. Cardilini was feeling sick.

‘The school was built on what once was Leggett land. All this side of the river up to the town.’ Jean smiled back. ‘I should’ve answered the front door but I knew Frank was getting bored with his book.’

‘I’m hoping you’ve never heard of me,’ Cardilini said.

‘Oh, yes we have. Mark Carmody is a frequent visitor,’ Leggett replied.

‘The boy Carmody at St Nicholas?’ Cardilini asked, appalled.

‘That’s the one. Not a fan of yours,’ Leggett said.

‘The feeling’s mutual,’ Cardilini said, standing.

‘What’s your rush?’

‘Knowing your lot, I’ll get my marching orders in the morning. I better start looking for a job.’

‘Please yourself, but given how long it took you to get down here, it seems a shame to rush off,’ Leggett said.

Jean stood and said, ‘I might leave you two. Drinks in half an hour.’ She walked off. Cardilini watched her walking away while thinking that’s what he should be doing. The light, loose fabric of her smock swished from side to side like a horse’s tail.

‘You find her attractive?’

‘Sorry. No. Just thinking, I should go too.’

‘You don’t find her attractive?’

‘No. Yes. Do you know what Carmody has been up to?’

‘Maybe not. You tell me.’

‘So you can tell him? I don’t think so,’ Cardilini replied.

‘I don’t need to tell tales to anyone,’ Leggett said, laying aside his book.

Cardilini sat. There was nothing about this guy that was eighty-six.

‘Put your policeman’s head on for a moment,’ Leggett said.

My policeman’s head? What does this old geezer think this is? ‘Okay.’

‘Think of this from Carmody’s point of view.’

‘Are you kidding? He’s an arrogant little brat.’

‘For an arrogant little brat he seems to be managing you successfully.’

Cardilini poured himself a ginger beer and hoped the tremors of anger in his hand weren’t too obvious.

‘So you’ve never thought of things from his point of view?’ Leggett asked.

‘Never. He doesn’t interest me.’