The Final Cut

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The Final Cut Page 27

by Robert Jeffreys


  Nic stared back unmoving, before he relaxed into a welcoming smile. ‘No idea,’ he replied, shaking his head.

  ‘I think you do. I think you know the comings and goings of everyone around here,’ Cardilini said. ‘Is your friend back in Perth this December?’

  ‘Which friend would that be?’ Nic showed a flash of teeth.

  ‘Maybe you didn’t know at the time what he was like.’

  ‘I have no idea who you’re talking about.’

  ‘Show him the other photos,’ Cardilini told Spencer.

  Spencer reluctantly sorted the photographs and chose one of Karen and one of Bridget. She handed them to Cardilini who handed them to Nic. He looked at them blank-faced before pushing them back.

  ‘How do I know that’s Bridget?’ he asked.

  Cardilini looked to Spencer, who retrieved two more photos and handed them over. He slowly laid them on the desk while he looked at Cardilini. He then turned his eyes to them but quickly looked to the side.

  ‘Recognise them?’ Cardilini asked. Nic nodded and pushed the photographs across the desk.

  ‘Why didn’t you take care of her?’ Spencer asked.

  Nic looked puzzled. ‘Why didn’t I marry her, are you asking?’

  ‘Yes,’ Spencer said.

  Nic gave a brief shake of his head.

  ‘You don’t seem surprised at the type of injuries,’ Cardilini said.

  ‘Really? What expression do you require?’

  ‘What can you tell us about the person who could inflict this amount of pain?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Because you won’t or because you don’t know anything?’ Spencer quickly asked. Nic smiled, shaking his head.

  Spencer turned to Cardilini. ‘Isn’t that withholding information, Detective Sergeant Cardilini?’

  ‘It might well be, Detective Constable Spencer. Do you under­stand what’s going on, Nic?’ Nic shrugged. ‘And it’s not exclusively working girls. You do know what to warn your girls against?’ Nic raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you know of any women doing film star impersonations at the moment?’ Nic slowly shook his head. ‘Are you going to help us?’

  ‘Can’t tell you what I don’t know,’ he finally said.

  ‘Fair enough.’ Cardilini stood. Spencer looked at him, shocked, but stood also.

  ‘Another time, Nic.’

  ‘Another time, Cardilini.’

  ***

  ‘He knew something!’ Spencer said when they were back on the street. Cardilini nodded. ‘Tell me what the hell’s going on.’

  ‘Nic told us that the person we’re chasing was beyond his reach. Which means this person is protected. Don’t worry, the photographs threw him, but they also told him that he was held in no regard by these people. He’s seriously outgunned here and he knows it. That tells me it could be a commercial hold these men have over him.’

  ‘Commercial?’

  ‘He could have a more profitable line of product than alcohol.’

  ‘Is he being investigated?’ Spencer asked.

  ‘I don’t know, I’m just guessing. I know he alerts the prohibited substances boys of any new suppliers and that threat is taken out, hence we have some control. Without Nic it would be a free for all and impossible to contain. And we’d be way behind the eight ball.’

  ‘Behind the eight ball, oh my God. Is that what you tell Paul?’

  ‘If you come up with a better way of doing things, hold a press conference.’

  ‘I think it’s a defeatist attitude and I can’t believe you’re part of it.’

  ‘Let’s concentrate on what we got from Nic.’

  ‘We didn’t get anything!’

  Cardilini spelt it out, raising his voice. ‘Look, we know the power of this individual. We are guessing it’s a commercial power.’

  ‘So it’s Abraham? Importing and supplying what Nic sells?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘The Italians?’

  ‘Possibly. I’ve a feeling I’ll hear more from Nic once he’s had a chance to think about things.’

  ‘He wouldn’t speak while I was there.’

  Cardilini paused for a moment. ‘No, he doesn’t know you, and you were behaving a bit high and mighty.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t seem to be doing anything.’

  They drove in silence, Spencer turning to Cardilini on occasion as if to speak, only to change her mind.

  As they walked into East Perth, she said, ‘I’ll get the tea.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  Thursday, 2 December 1965

  9.30 a.m.

  As per her usual morning routine, one of the men had escorted Melody to the bathroom in the house, where she showered, and then to the kitchen where she made herself breakfast. She was then escorted back to the caravan. They’d told her Archie would be arriving tomorrow.

  The men were very pleasant to her today; one of them offered to make her a thermos of tea. She had her own little gas stove and fridge in the caravan but accepted the offer with a gracious smile. She thought the two men – her Heckle and Jeckle – were concerned she might mention how unhelpful they were and how they treated her badly … then she realised she had no one to tell, apart from Archie.

  Neither she nor Archie had ever seen the men behind the lights. They would enter when the lights were on and sit in silence as Archie would start to talk mean to her and then tie her up. She’d been worried Archie’s weak eyes would work against the tension she was trying to build, so she told him to keep his back to the lights. She’d imagine Con pushing her and tying her up, but she couldn’t imagine his eyes when her clothes were torn and the blade was produced.

  She sat down with her thermos of tea in front of the mirror. She was slouching so she pinned her shoulders back and lifted her chin, her breasts pressed against the cloth of her shirt. She did some exercises to remind herself to keep her shoulders pinned back. She wanted tomorrow night to be special. A tremulous feeling started at her knees and she had to place her hands on her chin to stop it shaking. No, no, she told herself, No nerves, this is my opportunity.

  She’d pushed away the fear before and pictured Con in the audience. One time she’d imagined it so convincingly she’d called out ‘Con’ during the performance. Later, she’d denied it to Archie, scoffing that he was still jealous.

  ‘I don’t understand why I’m kept locked up,’ she complained again as Heckle opened her door and held out her meal.

  ‘You are too valuable to be allowed to chase after Archie,’ Heckle said with a smirk. Melody didn’t like him talking to her with that smirk on his face.

  ‘But Archie’s coming here,’ Melody pointed out.

  ‘Oh yeah. That’s right, for the performance.’

  ‘Will I be able to see the cameras?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘That’s all I wanted to know.’ Melody stayed aloof and controlled as she took the tray and stared him out the door.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  Thursday, 2 December 1965

  11.30 a.m.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ Cardilini said to Spencer before leaving with the files of the three young women. He walked down the corridor to the detectives’ office.

  ‘Spry, you got a minute?’ he asked and gestured towards the corridor. Spry nodded and followed Cardilini outside the building. They stood under the spreading shade of a giant fig tree. Cardilini held out his cigarette packet and Spry took one.

  ‘Is this about Louise?’ he asked.

  ‘No, something came up. Do you remember bodies of young women being found 1961, ’62 and ’63?’

  ‘Probably.’

  Cardilini exhaled a steady stream of smoke. ‘There was an investigation by detectives at the Midland and Yokine branches. Never solved, young women never identifi
ed.’

  ‘Not the first time, won’t be the last. Working girls.’

  Cardilini nodded. ‘Two possibly were, the files ended up at East Perth. You were partnered with Hardy in 1963.’

  Spry held up his hand. ‘Hang on a second, where are you going with this? Maybe I was with Hardy, but none of those cases ever came across our desk.’

  ‘Hardy signed off on three of them.’ Cardilini handed the files to Spry. ‘Take a look but don’t mention them to anyone.’

  ‘Bullshit.’ Spry eyed him suspiciously. ‘Hardy signed off on them?’

  Cardilini nodded, still holding out the files.

  Spry took them reluctantly. ‘I suppose the investigations didn’t lead anywhere, unsolved homicide, cold case, whatever you like. What’s the problem?’

  ‘No problem, just a funny coincidence.’

  ‘I’d say it’s just chance.’

  ‘Good, that’s what I hope. Take a look, yeah?’

  Spry sat on the bench under the fig tree and went through each file. Cardilini had smoked two cigarettes before he’d finished. ‘I had no knowledge of these. Hardy could be slack but …’ he shook his head, ‘… he wasn’t that slack.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t. What do you make of it?’ Cardilini handed him another cigarette, took one for himself and lit them both. ‘Notice the similarity?’ Spry nodded and exhaled the smoke high into the air above them. ‘No one else knows, about Hardy?’ Spry, eyes wide, shook his head as if in a nightmare. ‘Just you and me then, but there will be an investigation regarding the deaths shortly.’

  ‘Shit.’

  Cardilini watched him for a moment before asking, ‘Funny coincidence or something more?’

  ‘The fact he kept it from me in ’62 and ’63 is a mystery, but I can’t believe he intentionally buried the files.’

  Cardilini shrugged. ‘No, you wouldn’t want to think that.’

  ‘You think he was in on it in some way?’

  ‘I’ve no idea what to think.’

  Spry stood. ‘Let me think about it. I’ve got the dates, I’ll have a look at what we were working on back then – it might jog my memory.’

  ***

  Back in his office, a note sat on Cardilini’s desk asking him to ring Robinson. He didn’t feel like talking to him right now but he dialled anyway.

  ‘Cardilini, you took your time. Come straight up.’

  Cardilini sighed and made his way upstairs. Seated in front of Robinson were two heavyset men. Cardilini recognised the puffy faces and bagged eyes of seasoned drinkers, something he’d seen all too often in his own mirror. They were coppers but he didn’t know them.

  ‘Cardilini, good. I’d like you to meet federal agents Hatcher and May.’

  The officers shook Cardilini’s hand but stayed seated. Cardilini pulled up a chair.

  ‘Hatcher and May think we might be able to help them locate an individual. Someone they believe you have been in contact with. Perhaps, Federal Agent Hatcher, you could fill in the details.’

  Hatcher moved his bulk slightly to save from having to turn his neck. ‘You were put in touch with a silly old bastard who’s causing trouble for one of our operations,’ he growled. Cardilini looked back puzzled. ‘He’s wanted for assault with a deadly weapon. But he’s also a disgruntled employee of an individual who has been assisting us from time to time. You know who I’m talking about?’

  ‘I might do. What’s his employer’s name?’

  Hatcher looked uncomfortable. ‘I think you know.’

  ‘No way of telling unless you tell me.’ Cardilini attempted a smile.

  ‘Abraham’s Shipping,’ Hatcher said with a pointed look to Robinson.

  ‘Yep,’ Cardilini said. ‘I’m with you now.’

  ‘This is, of course, highly confidential,’ Hatcher told Robinson, ‘and as senior officer it’s your responsibility to keep it that way.’

  ‘Naturally,’ Robinson replied with a grave look on his face.

  ‘How did you know he spoke to me?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Senior Sergeant Ryan from Fremantle has been assisting us with the man’s whereabouts. He now seems to have gone missing. Do you know where we can contact him?’

  ‘Senior Sergeant Ryan, okay. Can’t help with the whereabouts; he was very cagey about that. Who was assaulted?’

  ‘We can’t disclose that,’ Hatcher replied.

  Robinson looked from Hatcher and May to Cardilini. ‘Wonderful. Is there anything else?’

  ‘Why did you want to talk to this fellow?’ May asked Cardilini.

  ‘We were following up on a domestic case in Fremantle close to his house,’ Cardilini said.

  ‘A domestic?’ May asked.

  ‘Yes, Superintendent Robinson knows the case.’

  ‘Ah yes, that was a case, but it’s not anymore,’ Robinson said.

  ‘Ryan said something similar. Did the old fellow talk about Abraham?’ Hatcher asked.

  ‘He might have,’ Cardilini said. ‘He talked a lot, but he wasn’t able to help me.’

  ‘Okay. Main thing. Abraham’s Shipping is out of bounds. Is that clear?’ May said.

  ‘Sure,’ Robinson said.

  ‘Sure,’ Cardilini echoed the sentiment.

  The two federal police visibly relaxed. They made a disparaging joke about domestics at which Cardilini and Robinson laughed. Then, as they were leaving, they asked for the best coppers’ pub in the neighbourhood. Robinson and Cardilini conferred and suggested one the uniforms went to.

  As soon as they’d left Robinson asked, ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘Search me.’

  ***

  Back in his office, Cardilini immediately rang Ryan at Fremantle Police Station. ‘What did you tell them?’

  ‘I told them you were following up about a domestic. Right?’

  ‘Me too. Did you have to put them onto me?’

  ‘Didn’t have a choice, the superintendent had already told them East Perth had been sniffing around. He was pretty keen to please them, thinks they’re the ant’s pants. By the look of those two, I think it’s jobs for the boys.’

  ‘Did they charge our man with assault?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘No. Didn’t mention anything like that.’

  ‘Okay, can we still get at Abraham?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘No way, he’s out of bounds, didn’t they make that clear?’

  ‘Yeah, they made it very clear. That’s why I find it hard to believe the federal police would be protecting a possible drug and people smuggler.’

  ‘Is that what they’re doing? News to me.’

  ‘That’s what the old boy said.’

  ‘Come on, he’d just lost his wife and his job.’

  Cardilini paused for thought. ‘Okay. I’ll be in touch.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  Thursday, 2 December 1965

  5.30 p.m.

  Daniel Abraham stood aside and gestured towards the hotel bed. With just a towel wrapped around his waist, Ricker stepped from the ensuite. Abraham envied Ricker’s chiselled form but knew he could never survive on the man’s diet.

  On the bed Abraham had carefully arranged a winged helmet, a short, loose-fitting tunic and knee-high leather women’s boots: Valkyrie warrior’s costume. Ricker smiled and nodded as he picked up and caressed the helmet. He put it down and, pointing, mentioned the bloodied pillowcases and sheets. Abraham said he would dispose of them. They walked from the bedroom to the lounge where Abraham poured them both a drink. They sat opposite each other, ready for work.

  Ricker showed Abraham a diagram of a large interior space with a number of poles supporting the roof. At one end was a chair with lights and a camera set up beside it. Beside the chair a large cross had been drawn on the floor. Lights were positioned near two of the roof sup
port poles. Ricker instructed Abraham on the arrangements he wanted. Abraham nodded enthusiastically.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  Thursday, 2 December 1965

  10 p.m.

  After he and Paul had cleaned up from dinner Cardilini tried to get some shut-eye. He tossed and turned, half-listening to Paul’s music coming from the lounge. His thoughts kept coming back to the evidence they had and the possibility of convicting Louise Hardy of her husband’s murder. But if she were convicted – and if no family were available to help out – the children would become wards of the state and their welfare from that point on would be a lottery. He’d heard kids can still thrive in those situations, but he was too used to dealing with those who didn’t, those who were abused – and grew up abusing others. Realising sleep was impossible, he decided to get up and make a pot of tea. But at some point he dozed off and was woken by the phone ringing at 11.45 p.m. It was expected: that afternoon, he’d booked an international call.

  ‘Cardilini here,’ he said groggily.

  ‘Call waiting,’ came the voice of the operator.

  There was a click and Cardilini repeated his name.

  ‘Cardilini, I don’t believe it! What a blast from the past. What in hell are you doing?’

  ‘Still a policeman.’

  ‘I should have known.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Government official.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘You name it. Kind of similar to what we were doing in Europe during the war. But different.’ A string of images and emotions flitted through Cardilini’s mind; he shook his head as a dog shakes his coat to shed water. ‘So, why are you ringing?’ the voice asked.

  ‘The massacre at the village of Oradour-sur-Glane,’ Cardilini said. ‘Is there anyone you’re still hunting who might have been involved?’

  ‘I don’t do that sort of thing anymore.’

  ‘Sure, but you’d know.’

  ‘Others do that now.’

  ‘Okay, I get it, others do that now. Are these others still chasing a German officer?’

  ‘What makes you think there’s still someone to chase?’

  ‘There’s a man coming to Perth who was at Oradour-sur-Glane. In fact, he could be in Perth right now.’

 

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