‘How?’

Cardilini stood from the table and walked from the pub. Salt sighed and, leaving his drink unfinished on the table, followed Cardilini.

NINE

Day 2

East Perth Police Department

4.15 p.m. Monday, 26th October 1965

Cardilini sat slumped at his desk staring gloomily at his watch. Too early even for him to go for another drink. He pulled out a street directory.

He noticed a car could coast down the hill outside St Nicholas and park near the river. The houses were at least 100 yards from the marshy foreshore. It would be easy for a car to park down there, then for someone to walk to the wall, climb over it and crawl up the embankment. There, they could make the shot and retreat the same way. No one would be the wiser. Cardilini headed for the basement.

The stairs to the basement were cast concrete. In an attempt to soften the gloom, corded carpet pinned by steel rods travelled the length of the stairs but not their full width. Dust gathered on the raw concrete edges. In the basement the temperature dropped ten degrees. Every five yards caged lighting clung like limpets to the concrete ceiling. Here the corridor was completely covered in the official green linoleum as on the building’s first floor. Timber doors lined the corridor, each embossed with gold lettering signifying the contents they concealed. Cardilini knew, despite the lettering, most rooms were given over to the masses of paperwork policing produced.

Halfway down the corridor he slouched against the doorframe of an office and tapped on the open door embossed ARMOURY. At the desk, ramrod straight, sat Senior Sergeant Acorn. Acorn reminded Cardilini more of a cuckoo clock than a copper. The Senior Sergeant was as fastidious as his moustache, which was always trimmed, as was his hair. Even his features, neat and understated, had a sheen and primness that also suggested daily trimming. Acorn raised his head in response to the tap. When he saw Cardilini he returned to his file without speaking.

‘Thought I’d drop by and say hi,’ Cardilini said.

‘You said it. Goodbye,’ Acorn replied without looking up.

‘I wonder if you could help me out.’

‘Out of where?’ Acorn raised his head with a superior smirk.

‘I’m chasing some information, if you’ve got a moment?’

‘Is it work related?’ Acorn lowered his head to the file in front of him.

‘Yes, sir,’ Cardilini said briskly.

‘What’s the case?’ Acorn asked drawing his open diary towards him. He poised his pen above a line. ‘Well?’

Cardilini smiled and sat in front of Acorn’s desk. Acorn had a weakness and Cardilini knew it: a vanity about his meticulous record keeping.

‘Just general information.’

‘A case name or I will have to ask you to leave the office,’ Acorn insisted.

‘Hey, Acorn, it’s me.’

‘Yes. I know it’s you, Cardilini. I seem to remember giving you confidential information once and ending up carpeted by the super.’

‘Yes. He shouldn’t have done that,’ Cardilini said sagely.