Cardilini thrust his head back.

Bishop continued, ‘They were contacted first. They can’t have any involvement, of course, so they told me to go gently; don’t want to damage the school’s reputation, etcetera. Oh, and the body is already at the morgue.’

‘What? That’s bullshit, even they can’t do that.’

‘Do you want me to tell them you said that?’

Cardilini turned to walk to his desk.

‘No need to tie up another detective,’ Bishop called after him, ‘take a constable.’

*

The constable available hadn’t been a year in the job. Cardilini observed him expressionlessly for some time. He was Cardilini’s height, six foot, with dark hair, dark eyes and even features. He’s too soft for the job, Cardilini decided.

‘Who are you?’ Cardilini asked.

‘They call me Salt, sir.’

‘Okay, Salt. You don’t speak unless I ask you to. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a loud-mouthed bore,’ Cardilini said at a volume and manner as if intended for a particular loud-mouthed bore within earshot.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Do you know where we’re going?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Are you old enough to drive?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Get a car.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Cardilini had started to sweat only minutes into their journey and couldn’t settle on the seat. The metal of the dashboard, the vinyl seats, the glare from the windscreen, all annoyed him.

‘There’s a busted spring in this seat, Salt.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Next time you tell ‘em who the car’s for.’

‘I did.’

‘Bastards,’ Cardilini said as he tried to crush the spring into submission with his backside.

FOUR

Day 2

Royal Perth Hospital

9.24 a.m. Monday, 26th October 1965

The body had been taken to the Royal Perth Hospital. Cardilini had Salt drop him at the front doors.

‘Park the car and then come in and ask to be taken to the freezer.’ Cardilini lit a cigarette as he walked through the double doors. He liked to stride along the corridor, he knew most of the nurses and he saw himself as a bluff, noisy uncle to them. He could make them laugh. He searched in vain for one he could tease.

‘You wouldn’t want to be sick in this place,’ he announced at volume. A nurse with straight, shoulder-length black hair framing a square face stepped from a door.

‘Detective Sergeant Cardilini, are you sick?’

‘This is the last place I’d be if I was.’

‘A number of people will be happy to hear that.’

Cardilini couldn’t remember the nurse’s name. He used to have a good memory for names, faces, and all sorts of facts about people.

‘You’d be leading the pack, I bet.’

The nurse retreated through the door. That shut her up, Cardilini smiled.

*

In the basement, off the corridor to the ‘freezer’, the attendant, Colin McBride, had an office the size of two broom closets. He had compressed his body to suit: shoulders bent forward and a short sharp gait, but his big oval head, boasting thick black-framed round glasses, seemed outsized.