‘Hey, McBride, you little ghoul, you got a body from St Nicholas College for me?’ Cardilini called from the corridor.

‘I wondered who would turn up. They sent you to bury it, did they?’ McBride manoeuvred from his office.

‘It’s a shooting accident.’

‘That’s bullshit for a start.’

‘What would you know?’

‘More than you would,’ McBride answered and Cardilini considered that was probably true.

‘Well, no one’s asking you. And I don’t really care, I’m just following procedure.’

‘Procedure, bullshit. If your mob were following procedure we wouldn’t have a body until an investigation was done.’ He pushed through a set of double doors ahead of Cardilini. On the autopsy table a grey sheet covered the form of a body, a black patch on one end hanging over a strangely truncated shape. Cardilini walked to the table and paused.

‘Who brought the body in?’ he asked.

‘Ambulance.’

‘Very funny. Which coppers?’

‘No coppers.’

‘What?’

‘No coppers.’

‘So, who authorised the bloody thing to come here?’

‘The ambos were told to pick the body up. It was just a scheduled job for them.’

‘What time?’

‘Six thirty this morning. The teacher didn’t arrive at rowing training.’

‘Rowing? Who goes rowing?’ Cardilini asked as Salt came through the door. ‘Tell your story to Salt, he’ll pretend he cares. Do you want to see this Salt?’

Cardilini watched Salt’s features freeze and said, ‘Nah, both of you nick off.’

When the doors swung closed, Cardilini reached to remove the sheet. It held fast. He began to pry from one side then tugged. Portions of brain tissue formed a neat arc through the air as the sheet fell to one side, revealing the body. A man in his forties dressed in trousers, socks and shoes, but no shirt. Not a lot of body fat, Cardilini noted. All quite normal apart from the fact that the top half of the man’s skull was missing. The man’s face seemed oblivious to this. His eyes open and clear, the mouth and chin angled suggesting he was exercising authority.

Cardilini had heard the fatal shot had come from a distance, possibly half a mile, from roo-shooters. The fact that the man’s skull was missing suggested either a hollow-point or a soft-point bullet, designed to expand on impact. Roo-shooters using hollow-point bullets? Cardilini puzzled.

He picked up a probe and poked around in the brain cavity before laying it aside and re-examining the body from the soles of the victim’s shoes to his gaping skull. I don’t like this, Cardilini thought to himself.

He called finally, ‘Salt. Come here.’

Salt and McBride entered. Salt stopped inside the door, his eyes widening as he stared at the gaping skull.

‘Salt, examine the body. See if you can determine cause of death. McBride, come with me.’ Cardilini left through the swinging doors, lighting a cigarette. McBride followed.

‘Okay, smart arse. What do you think happened?’ Cardilini asked.

‘From the entry wound, a .303; from the exit, a hollow-point bullet. I’d say from a distance of two hundred yards max.’