The Final Cut

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The Final Cut Page 28

by Robert Jeffreys


  ‘How do you know this?’

  Cardilini told his long-ago colleague of McBride’s experiences during the war. Cardilini knew the hesitation was gone when he was asked for more information regarding the type of injuries the officer had inflicted. ‘He specialises in mutilating their sexual organs. Cuts, starting as superficial on the inner thighs and breasts, then building. The girls’ faces are left unmarked – as is the rest of the body. My contact thinks he identified boot marks, as if the victims had been kicked, as well.’

  ‘What are you lot doing about it?’

  ‘We’re just starting. It’s not an official case. Not yet at least.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll look into it. I’ll ring you back in four hours.’

  ‘I’ll be here,’ Cardilini said. There was a click and the line went dead.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  Friday, 3 December 1965

  4 a.m.

  Cardilini managed a few hours’ sleep but woke again just before four in the morning. In front of him by the phone was a notebook and pen. He wondered if it had been a good idea, contacting his ex-colleague. Then he reasoned that if his German had diplomatic immunity he would lose him anyway. He could alert the federal police but that would alert the German. The phone rang.

  ‘Cardilini.’

  ‘What time is it there?’

  ‘Just past four in the morning.’

  There was a pause. ‘Right. They’re not there yet. The plane’s arriving at 10 a.m. on Saturday morning.’

  ‘Who’s coming?’

  ‘In France we’re tied up in diplomacy. And Germany is now an important ally. Our justice system is porous, like yours.’

  ‘Fine. Who’s coming?’

  ‘They’ll explain.’

  ‘What if I need to speak to you again?’

  ‘I’ll be here. But France and I are not involved any further. Got that? In fact, we never were involved. Do you understand?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Those days after the war are over. Diplomacy determines justice now. If this is the man we think he might be, your justice system couldn’t hold him. And Cardilini, I said you could be relied upon.’

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘Catch the bastard.’

  ‘Okay. He’s possibly linked with Abraham International Shipping. He might also be a Polish collaborator with the Germans. Man by the name of Kopecki.’

  There was no response.

  ‘Did you hear me?’ Cardilini prompted.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you heard of Abraham Shipping?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘They ship under the Australian flag now.’

  ‘Yes. So?’ Cardilini asked and waited.

  ‘Pass all that on.’

  ‘How will I know who they are?’

  ‘They have your photo. Just be at the airport by 10 a.m. They’ll find you and make contact.’

  ‘Will they have a photo of the guy they’re chasing?’

  ‘Ask them. This could answer something that has been troubling us for a while. Just remember this person has escaped being identified for twenty years. You must not trust anyone with this information.’

  Cardilini heard the familiar click as the line went dead.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  Friday, 3 December 1965

  9.30 a.m.

  Later that morning, Spencer and Cardilini went through the paperwork again, trying in vain to clear a backlog of mundane red tape, while patiently waiting for their first pot of tea to brew.

  ‘Do you think the old guy in the park was making stuff up about Abraham’s Shipping?’ Spencer asked.

  ‘The federal police didn’t have a very high opinion of him.’

  ‘What did you think, though? Did you believe him?’

  ‘At the moment there isn’t much we could do even if we wanted to,’ Cardilini said. He picked up the teapot as if to encourage the brew. Spencer sighed. She’d never seen him so uncommitted; the urgency had seeped from him and even the mention of Melody Cooper didn’t trigger any response. He kept his eyes on the pot as if that was the most important thing in the world. Clearly it was up to her to get things moving.

  At that moment, Archer bounded through the door, breaking her train of thought. He announced that Jennifer Clancy was asking for Cardilini. He didn’t know why but she only wanted him, not Spencer. Without waiting for a response, he left.

  ‘Can you bring some tea down?’ Cardilini asked Spencer. ‘I reckon she’ll appreciate it.’

  ***

  ‘Hi, Jennifer,’ Cardilini chirped as he entered her cell.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ she snapped. ‘I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t behind it.’

  ‘Is that all you had to say?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘No,’ she said, then clammed up.

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘You know I can’t handle this, you know what will happen,’ Jennifer said. Her eyes clung to him like claws.

  ‘Aren’t they looking after you?’

  ‘Come on, you know what I need!’

  Cardilini shrugged.

  Jennifer dropped her aggression. ‘Look, I shouldn’t be here. I had nothing to do with it.’

  Cardilini ran his finger across his nose. ‘Then you have nothing to worry about.’

  ‘That’s rubbish. And you know it.’ She threw her hands out. ‘Someone’s setting me up.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know. That necklace …’ She turned big eyes to Cardilini and spoke softly, ‘… it’s not mine.’

  ‘You said you recognised it.’

  ‘I made a mistake! I’m a drugged-up prostitute, my brain’s addled, remember?’

  Cardilini waited a moment as she breathed heavily. ‘So who do you think is setting you up?’

  ‘You coppers, that’s who.’

  ‘Now, Jennifer, be fair.’

  ‘I don’t know. Anyone. Another girl? Their boyfriends? I’ve tried to think. But you’ve got to get me out of here. I’ll come straight back. Please, Cardilini.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ll make sure a doctor sees you.’ Cardilini turned to the door.

  Jennifer stood, followed him and yelled, ‘You bastard, you are no better than Hardy – beat me up, cut me up, I don’t care anymore!’ Cardilini stopped and turned. Jennifer saw the change in his eyes.

  ‘Why did you say, “cut me up"?’ he asked her.

  ‘I didn’t.’

  Cardilini closed the cell door. ‘Was Hardy involved in cutting girls?’

  Jennifer retreated into the corner, shaking her head.

  Cardilini approached her and asked heavily, ‘Do you know who cuts girls?’

  ‘No!’

  He kept his eyes on her. ‘I can’t help you, then.’ He turned to the door, opened it and took a step out. Spencer was walking towards them with a tray of tea. He signalled for her to stop. She rolled her eyes and set the tray on the desk sergeant’s counter.

  ‘Cardilini, I’d help if I could,’ Jennifer whispered.

  He stepped back into the cell. ‘We could protect you, you know.’

  Jennifer slumped down on her bunk. ‘I know you can’t and you know you can’t.’

  Cardilini did know. Just recently a witness who moved interstate for protection had ended up dead. ‘What are people saying about Hardy’s murder?’

  ‘They all think it was me now.’

  ‘Before you were arrested, what were they saying?’

  ‘That he fell out with another copper.’

  Cardilini thought for a moment. He’d never heard Hardy’s name linked with any police officers who were considered suspect. ‘Who?’

  ‘Cummings,’ she whispered.

  Detective Inspector Cummings headed up a special team dealing wi
th importation of illicit goods. Cardilini and Cummings’ paths had never really crossed.

  ‘Why Cummings?’

  ‘He doesn’t like interference.’

  ‘How do you know that? Have you crossed him in some way?’

  ‘I don’t know, I could have. There are dealers I trust and some I don’t. I might have said something.’

  ‘Are you saying Cummings is linked to dealers?’

  Jennifer shook her head. ‘No. No. I don’t know. I just know I had nothing to with Hardy’s death.’

  ‘Okay, I’m going to ask the doctor to give you something,’ Cardilini said. The desperation in Jennifer’s eyes continued to claw at him. He opened the cell door and held it open for Spencer. They gave each other a brief look, and he took his cup from the tray. Spencer entered the cell.

  Cardilini paused at the desk sergeant’s counter and glanced back down the corridor. Let’s see what Spencer can do.

  ‘My daughter wanted to be a policewoman,’ the desk sergeant said, ‘but I talked her out of it.’

  ‘Really? What’s she doing now?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Hairdresser.’

  ‘Good. Much safer.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  Friday, 3 December 1965

  12 noon

  Cardilini sat at his desk with his fourth cup of tea for the day and pulled the phone towards him.

  ‘Hi, Archer. How’s it going?’

  ‘Fine,’ Archer replied. ‘You get anything from Clancy yesterday?’

  ‘Not really. Claims she knows nothing about Hardy’s death.’

  ‘We’ve heard that before.’

  ‘Yep. Just checking if anything else came up?’

  ‘Nope, and we’re due at the prosecutor’s office at three.’

  ‘Good luck. Spencer wants to follow up something else.’

  ‘Something we should know about?’

  ‘Probably nothing,’ Cardilini said and hung up. He looked at his watch.

  Spencer entered the office like someone on a mission. ‘Got anything pressing at the moment, Cardilini? You feel like a drive?’

  ‘Not really, to both questions. I feel like some lunch.’

  ‘We’ll grab some sandwiches on the way. There’s someone we need to talk to.’

  Without further explanation, Spencer drove them to the Osborne Park Hospital and parked about a hundred yards from the entrance. Cardilini didn’t like where this was heading.

  ‘What’s wrong with the closer bays?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing. Except if I had parked there you would have said we should leave them free for emergencies.’ Cardilini wondered if he would have. Maybe. ‘Ready? We’re going to see a nurse named Parker.’

  Inside the doors on the right a receptionist sat in a booth. ‘Yes?’ she asked with a smile.

  ‘Detectives Cardilini and Spencer to see Nurse Parker,’ Spencer said. The receptionist picked up a phone and smiled again.

  ‘This place is more cheerful than East Perth,’ Spencer whispered.

  ‘She’s coming,’ the receptionist said as she put down the phone. Cardilini glanced around the waiting area where an elderly couple sat holding hands. Cardilini wondered which one of them was ill, then he saw the woman pat the man on the hand and the man give her an apologetic smile.

  Nurse Parker entered from the corridor. ‘Detective Spencer?’ she asked and extended her hand. Her greying hair was drawn back tightly under her crisp white nurse’s cap. Her features were sharp.

  Spencer introduced Cardilini, the nurse nodded and shook his hand. ‘Very nice, Detective Inspector Cardilini. This way.’

  They followed her brisk march down a wide corridor with walls painted a cream gloss and a floor of green linoleum. Spencer glanced at Cardilini and imitated marching, which Cardilini acknowledged with a little smile. At the end of the corridor, the nurse entered a small office and sat down behind a desk. She indicated seats to Spencer and Cardilini and pulled a file towards her marked ‘Louise Hardy’. Spencer looked straight at Cardilini. Having suppressed his own suspicions for some time, he was now wary of what they would find.

  ‘May I see your badges?’ the nurse asked.

  The detectives offered them to her; she studied them, nodded and then opened the file. ‘Six visits,’ she said.

  ‘Can I have the dates, please?’ Spencer asked. The nurse pushed the file towards her.

  ‘What did you make of the injuries?’ Cardilini asked. The nurse screwed her mouth closed and seemed hesitant to answer. ‘Confidentially, of course,’ he added, but that didn’t seem to encourage her.

  ‘The reports say she fell down some stairs, tripped over, and walked into a door,’ Spencer said. Nurse Parker remained expres­sionless. ‘The injuries are consistently on her face and ribs. It would suggest a beating of some sort, to me at least.’

  ‘Interesting deduction, Spencer. What do you think?’ Cardilini asked the nurse, knowing full well that Spencer was right.

  ‘We see all sorts of things, Detective Inspector Cardilini. What do you want me to say?’

  ‘Were the injuries consistent every time she came in?’ Cardilini asked.

  Nurse Parker put out her hand for the file and Spencer gave it to her. She cast an eye over several admission notes and pushed the file back. ‘There’s really nothing I can add.’

  ‘Have you ever personally spoken to Mrs Hardy?’ Spencer asked.

  ‘Yes. On occasion, I have.’

  ‘What did you make of her?’

  ‘It’s not my business to make things of people, Detective.’

  ‘Could her injuries be the result of beatings?’

  Nurse Parker shifted her eyes between the two detectives. ‘If I suggested that might be a possibility she would never come back. And I wouldn’t blame her. She needs to feel she can trust us.’

  ‘Three of the visits are quite recent,’ Spencer said.

  The nurse remained impassive.

  ‘Would you say the recent accidents appear to be intensifying?’ Cardilini asked.

  Again, the nurse reached out her hand and examined the file. ‘They appear to be,’ she said.

  ‘Are you ever tempted to call the police when women keep presenting like this?’ Spencer asked.

  The nurse exhaled. ‘I’m not sure what you expect. If they wanted the police involved, they’d go to them, wouldn’t they?’

  Cardilini turned to Spencer. ‘You got everything we need, Detective Constable Spencer?’

  ‘I think so. Thank you.’ Spencer handed the file back to the nurse.

  ‘Sorry to pester you,’ Cardilini said and stood.

  ‘Look, it’s not as if we don’t know what’s going on. But it’s not our place to do anything other than to care for the woman while she’s with us. We accept what we are told – the rest is none of our business.’

  ‘We understand,’ Spencer said. They said their goodbyes and left.

  ***

  ‘We understand?’ Cardilini asked with raised eyebrows on the way back to the car.

  ‘Well, I do, don’t you?’

  Cardilini shrugged.

  ‘You, Spry and Archer all shut up like clams when it came up that Hardy might be beating his wife.’

  ‘I guess we did.’

  ‘It’s the whole way of thinking: what happens between a wife and husband is out of bounds for everybody else.’

  ‘You could be right.’

  ‘A lot of good it’s doing me.’

  They walked on in silence.

  ‘The desk sergeant said his daughter wanted to be a police­woman but he talked her out of it,’ Cardilini said as he opened the passenger door.

  Spencer stopped and turned abruptly. ‘Why are you saying that?’

  ‘Just thought of it.’

  ‘You mu
st have had a reason.’

  Everything kept telling Cardilini that Spencer didn’t fit in; she was too different, too intelligent, too ethical.

  ‘Cardilini, this is where I belong,’ she said sharply, partly to shut out her own doubt.

  ‘We’re on your side.’

  ‘Difficult to tell with you. I get the feeling I’m always being kept out of things. I’m being protected. I just want to be a detective, I just … want to be able to concentrate on that. I don’t want the fact I’m female being pushed in my face all the time.’

  Cardilini scratched his head. ‘I’m sorry if I’m doing that.’

  Spencer watched him climb into the passenger side before she got behind the wheel. ‘Good,’ she said and rammed the gear lever into first. The car lurched forward and Cardilini grabbed for the dashboard.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

  Friday, 3 December 1965

  2 p.m.

  ‘Explain again why we’re here?’ Spencer demanded as she pulled up outside Louise Hardy’s squat, single-storey house.

  Cardilini stared at the road ahead and asked himself the very same thing. ‘Spencer, questions about Louise Hardy are hanging over this investigation and it’s confusing everything we do.’

  ‘I agree,’ Spencer replied. ‘Does that mean you’d charge her?’

  Cardilini looked back at her, defeated. ‘Can we just do one thing at a time?’ He got out, walked up the garden path and knocked on the front door. Louise opened it and stood statue-still, staring at them. ‘Hi, Louise,’ he said, ‘just wanted see if there’s anything we can help you with.’

  Spencer tried to smile.

  ‘No,’ Louise replied, tight-lipped.

  ‘Did you hear? Spry and Archer have arrested Jennifer Clancy.’

  ‘I might have.’

  ‘That must be a relief.’

  ‘They’re doing their job.’

  ‘Were you surprised?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We’ve just come from—’ Spencer began.

  Cardilini interrupted, ‘We’ve just come from Osborne Park Hospital. You know the one?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said and cocked his head. ‘You should, you’ve visited it enough times.’

 

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