‘Not for me,’ Cardilini kept walking.

‘Where are we going, sir?’

Cardilini stopped and turned to Salt, ‘What does your instinct tell you about Edmund’s death?’

‘Instinct?’

‘Yes, you’ve heard of it?’

‘Yes, sir. In the academy it’s pointed out that investigating officers following their instincts not only led to a low conviction rate, but also to some dubious convictions.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘The information came from the Public Prosecutor’s Office.’

‘There you go then. They wouldn’t know if their arses were on fire,’ Cardilini said, hearing the belligerence in his voice. He knew he had thought the same thing. Several cases had gone through their department that he knew were suspect. But he hadn’t hesitated to go drinking with the detectives when they got a conviction. He held his gaze on Salt’s open, innocent expression. He imagined what Salt was seeing. He turned and started towards his car.

‘Sir?’ Salt called after him. But it was Betty’s eyes he was seeing.

Day 3

Kilkenny Road

11.15 a.m. Tuesday, 27th October 1965

Cardilini walked into his house. Paul was lying on the couch with a book. Cardilini went to the kitchen and put a glass, a bottle of beer and an opener on the kitchen table. He took his coat off and placed it on the back of a chair and sat looking at the beer bottle. Paul walked to the door.

‘Why are you home?’ he asked.

Cardilini didn’t answer.

‘Go to the bloody pub, that’s what you usually do. Don’t do this here.’

Cardilini kept staring at the beer.

‘Just go. Get out of here,’ Paul yelled.

Cardilini placed both hands palm down on the table.

‘Don’t bring this home, Dad. Not to Mum’s house. Just go. Go.’

Cardilini rubbed his chin and moved his palm across his mouth several times before closing his eyes and standing. He opened his eyes and grabbed the beer bottle as if it was a great weight and placed it back in the fridge. He sat back at the table again with his hands palms down as if he would violently launch himself at any moment. Paul moved to him cautiously and took the opener and glass from the table and put them away. He filled the kettle, lit a flame under it and put fresh tea-leaves in the pot, all the while looking at his father. Then he sat at the table to wait for the kettle to boil.

‘What is it, Dad? What’s happened?’ Paul asked. Cardilini did a slow turn of his head until he faced Paul. Paul was taken aback with the intensity of his father’s stare.

‘Would you still like to go to the academy?’ Cardilini asked.

‘What? The Police Training Academy?’

‘Yes.’

‘But I can’t now, I have a criminal record.’

‘Would you still like to go?’

‘But, Dad. You know I can’t. Don’t do this,’ Paul said, wincing.

‘If the conviction was voided and you were accepted would you want to go?’

‘How could that happen?’

‘Would you want to go?’ Cardilini asked, reigning in his emotions.