‘What’s happened?’ Cardilini asked urgently.

‘Nothing.’

‘Paul?’

‘No. I’ve come to see you.’

‘Is Paul home?’

‘No one answered the door.’

‘Come in.’ Cardilini led the way into the house and called for Paul, until he saw the note on the kitchen table. ‘I’m at Aunty Roslyn’s. If you’re not too late come over. I’m sure it would be okay. Thanks for the lend of the car.’

‘Come and sit down. Do you want a cup of tea?’ Cardilini asked Robinson.

‘Okay.’ Robinson sat. ‘Where’ve you been?’

‘I was at the park.’

‘Not drinking, I hope.’

‘No.’

‘You haven’t had a drink?’ Robinson asked surprised.

‘No.’

After pausing a moment Robinson said, ‘I might have been jumping the gun this afternoon. Pressure from above, you know.’ When Cardilini turned his head to take in Robinson’s attempt at an apology, he added, ‘Jesus man. You look awful. Have a drink.’

Cardilini opened the fridge door, ‘Will you join me?’

‘No.’

Cardilini closed the fridge door slowly and sat.

‘So,’ Robinson joined him at the table, ‘tell me what’s troubling you about the shooting?’

Cardilini paused and asked himself the same question. His instinct told him it wasn’t an accident. His instinct also told him the principal, staff and students were all liars and that there was a conspiracy at the highest level of the police force to cover up a murder. He sighed heavily. What concrete, irrefutable evidence did he base this instinct on? He looked blankly back at Robinson: Robinson, his mate. Robinson, a smart copper; a copper who only got convictions on evidence; a smart copper like Cardilini had once been.

‘You’re scaring me, Cardilini.’

‘What if I have lost it?’ Cardilini asked.

‘Then I’d say, yes, go on leave, as of this moment. I know the copper you can be, Cardilini, but I’m the last one batting for you. If I’m gone, you’re out.’

Cardilini realised he may have been getting chances for awhile.

‘What’s it going to be, Cardilini?’ Robinson asked.

Cardilini turned to the fridge and studied the handle. He remembered picking it out with Betty. Their first new refrigerator.

‘Yeah. Well. I better do my job,’ Cardilini suggested as he turned back. He wasn’t really sure what he meant by that.

‘Yeah. You better do your job. Do some real policing. Evidence. Facts.’

‘And what if it turns out to be other than an accident?’ Cardilini asked. ‘Not that I’ll be looking for it,’ he added quickly.

‘If it’s not an accident . . .’ Robinson started then paused, appearing reluctant to finish. ‘I hope to Christ you’re wrong and so far, you’ve got no evidence to indicate it wasn’t an accident.’

Cardilini nodded and tried to ask casually, ‘The missing bullet?’

‘Unbelievable I know, but we can be confident it wasn’t your shooter.’

Cardilini wasn’t going to argue with that.

‘Do your job. Be smart. Use Salt. In five years he could be your boss if you don’t get off your arse.’

Cardilini didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Still want that tea?’