The other nodded and they entered the house.

TWENTY-ONE

Day 5

Kilkenny Road

6.00 a.m. Thursday, 29th October 1965

At sunrise Cardilini blinked his eyes open, staggered to the laundry on the back verandah, drank from the tap and stripped off his filthy clothes. He stared at them on the floor then, shaking his head, put them in a tub for soaking and headed to the bathroom.

Showered and shaved, he tidied and swept the kitchen, put the rubbish out and forced some cornflakes down, accompanied by four cups of tea. Only slightly recovered he returned to the kitchen table with Captain Edmund’s files before him.

Paul interrupted him at 9 a.m. ‘There’s an unmarked car and driver out the front.’

‘Last night . . .’ Cardilini started.

‘No. I’m moving to Aunty Roslyn’s. You’re a disgrace. The neighbours told me what happened last night. The academy won’t want me now. Anyway, I don’t think I could go.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘That hasn’t meant anything since . . .’ Paul shook his head and went to his bedroom.

Cardilini sat with his eyes shut, his stomach knotting and his head roaring. When composed he picked up the files and stood at Paul’s door.

‘I know I’m a disgrace, I know what your mother would think, but I want you to know . . . I am trying to turn things around.’ Cardilini stood a while longer then headed for the front door and the car at the verge.

‘Salt,’ He said as he sat.

‘Sir.’

Cardilini closed the car door.

‘Where to, sir?’

‘Did you hear about my performance last night?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘How bad was I?’

‘Calls started at the local branch at midnight. I think you were out in the backyard then. A senior constable at East Perth sent the car around.’

‘How bad?’

‘No damage. The constables stayed about an hour or so. It was a slow night.’

‘Was a report made out?’

‘No, sir.’

‘You thank those boys for me.’

‘No disrespect, sir, but I’d rather not.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

Salt sat silently staring forward.

‘Can you explain yourself?’

‘I’d rather not, sir.’

‘You think I should be on report?’

‘I’d rather not say, sir.’

Cardilini turned and looked at his house. The front lawn, once immaculate, was now dying in patches. The rosebushes along the fence, without their winter prune, were wild and snarled and reaching out across the footpath. ‘It’s a bloody mess, and I forgot about the roses. Okay. East Perth, Salt.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And Salt, get that old, beat-up, shit-box of a car back again.’

‘Yes, sir.’

*

Acorn watched with pen poised as Cardilini spoke. ‘Two years ago, St Nicholas had a cadet who won state marksman awards two years running. Captain Edmund had recorded every score the boy achieved over a three-year period. The boy, Williamson, had been assigned rifle number one, one, three, one, seven, two.’

‘What were the boy’s scores?’ Acorn asked.

‘He regularly produced groups of five at two-hundred yards.’