Man at the Window

by Robert Jeffreys

  Cardilini shrugged. ‘How tall was Edmund?’ he asked.

  ‘Not a tall man.’ Robson replied, eyeing Cardilini coolly.

  ‘Shorter than you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How much shorter?’

  Robson held out his hand at eye level.

  ‘Finished, Salt?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good. Make yourself that tall, Salt’ Cardilini directed, ‘and walk over to the window.’

  Salt went to Robson’s hand and bent at the knees until he reached the right height. Then he shuffled to the window and stood looking out. Cardilini stepped beside him and placed the index finger of his right hand on Salt’s forehead and the index finger of his left hand on the rear of Salt’s skull. He stood behind Salt and viewed down the angle his fingers created. Then he turned his attention into the room and returned to the spot above the door. He pulled the desk chair over and examined the same space with his eyes and fingertips. Satisfied, he replaced the chair and began inspecting the floor.

  ‘Sir?’ Salt asked; his knees had begun to shake.

  ‘Yeah. Okay,’ Cardilini replied. Salt straighten his legs as Cardilini opened the door and got down on his hands and knees. ‘A lot of blood?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You all walked in it?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘No.’ Robson replied emphatically.

  ‘Someone did,’ Cardilini said.

  Robson looked at the floor curiously. ‘No. The pool was intact.’

  ‘You actually saw that when you first discovered the body?’

  ‘I’m sorry to say, yes, I noted it.’

  Cardilini stood and inched along the corridor to the left, ‘Where were the skull fragments?’ he asked without looking up from his examination of the carpet in the corridor.

  ‘I didn’t see any, thank goodness. And I didn’t look. The body was gone when I returned with the cleaners.’

  ‘What time did you first enter the room?’

  ‘Just before six. Captain Edmund always rose punctually at five thirty.’

  ‘Why did you come to the room?’

  ‘The boys were mustered for rowing training and waiting in the quadrangle. I sent them ahead and came up here to fetch Edmund,’ Robson answered.

  ‘You at school that time every morning?’ Cardilini asked, shifting his view of the carpet to catch more light on the spot he was inspecting.

  ‘Dr Braun and I share the early starts.’

  ‘Did the cleaners exit this way?’ Cardilini indicated to the left of the passageway.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘One of the cleaners had blood on them,’ Cardilini said.

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘Who else was about at six o’clock?’

  ‘Before six, just the rowers,’ Robson answered

  ‘Did one of the boys come up this way to rouse Edmund?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘And discover the body and not say anything?’ Robson queried mockingly.

  ‘Perhaps, so they could souvenir the bullet.’

  ‘No!’ Robson stated firmly.

  ‘You seem sure.’

  ‘I’m very sure. There isn’t a boy in the school who didn’t respect Captain Edmund.’

  ‘Were the rowers barefoot?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘No. In shoes. It’s quite a hike to the boat shed.’

  At this point Cardilini had Salt hold the fire-escape door open while he examined the stairs.

  ‘There’s blood on these steps,’ Cardilini said, and straightened his back. Robson and Salt craned forward to see.

  ‘It could have been splatter from the cleaners’ buckets,’ Robson suggested.

  ‘Did Superintendent Robinson or Deputy Commissioner Warren come out this way?’

  ‘I believe the superintendent drew the deputy commissioner this way. I was at the other end of the corridor to stop entry.’

  ‘Okay.’ Cardilini said. He walked down the fire-escape. Glancing out to the oval, he recognised a familiar array of nets. ‘Hockey?’

  ‘Yes.’ Robson said craning to see what Cardilini was doing.

  At the bottom of the fire-escape Cardilini had got down on his haunches and was examining the bitumen. Robson and Salt started down the fire-escape. ‘Don’t step off,’ Cardilini commanded, and the two stood one behind the other on the lower rungs.

  ‘Which way did the cleaners go?’ Cardilini asked.

  Robson pointed to the left. Cardilini started to the right, walking slowly, surveying the bitumen. He then stopped and looked out onto the hockey field.

  ‘Someone did pick up that bullet,’ he finally said.

  ‘Yes. I believe that was the previous consensus,’ Robson glanced dismissively to Salt.

  ‘Not very respectful, would you say?’ Cardilini asked, starting down the limestone stairs.

  ‘I think it’s your officers or ambulance crew that missed it. It could still be …’ Robson was reluctant to finish.

  ‘In the body?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Robson replied.

  Cardilini shrugged.

  ‘Finding it isn’t worth traumatising the whole school,’ Robson declared.

  ‘Really? Who decides that?’

  ‘A responsible adult,’ Robson replied firmly.

  ‘A crime scene has been disturbed and no one is worried. Is that what I’m hearing?’ He started on the base of the wall at the other side of the stairs.

  ‘You only lost a bullet, Detective Sergeant Cardilini. The whole school has lost a dedicated teacher and colleague.’

  ‘Did you come across this in the academy, Salt?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Just starting out,’ Cardilini said, indicating Salt to Robson.

  ‘I’m aware,’ Robson replied dryly.

  ‘We might go for a stroll down to that row of gum trees on the other side of the quadrangle,’ Cardilini said climbing the limestone stairs.

  ‘I will need to check with the principal,’ Robson said.

  ‘No, you won’t. This is a police investigation.’

  Cardilini walked from the shade of the rear of the building around to the front, which faced the quadrangle. He stood in the shade of the cloister, reluctantly looking out onto the lawn and the row of gum trees on the opposite side. It was midday and the heat seemed to have a pulse and will of its own. The diagonal paths were paved with limestone, hard and hot. A few passing students, dressed in grey shorts and grey shirts with a gold and black school tie, stared openly at the three men.

  ‘What time is lunch?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Twelve thirty.’

  ‘Who sent the cleaners home?’

  ‘The principal can answer your questions.’

  ‘Bullshit. Everyone answers my questions,’ Cardilini glared at Robson. Robson looked nonplussed.

  ‘We don’t swear at St Nicholas College. It’s considered coarse.’

  ‘And what do you consider a criminal record for withholding information?’

  ‘You don’t pay my salary, Detective Cardilini,’ Robson replied coolly.

  Cardilini regarded Robson for a moment, smiled, and then grimaced as he stepped out into the sun to cross the quadrangle. Robson and Salt quickly followed.

  ‘We don’t need you anymore, Robson,’ Cardilini dismissed the deputy without turning.

  ‘I’ve been instructed to stay with you,’ Robson said. Cardilini didn’t respond and headed directly across the lawn to the line of gum trees he’d viewed from Edmund’s room.

  ‘We are required to walk on the paths as an example to the boys,’ Robson said as he stepped right to one of the diagonal paths. Cardilini ignored him. Salt stuck by Cardilini’s side.

  Robson quickened his pace getting ahead
of Cardilini and picked up a sheet of paper by one of the gum trees. ‘Litter,’ he uttered sharply. Cardilini went to the tree where Robson had retrieved the paper. He stood beside the tree trunk and looked up at the window he had left open, then started to examine the tree and the surrounding grass before he began a slow descent of the embankment to the bordering limestone wall.

  Clicking heels alerted Robson and Salt to Miss Reynolds’s arrival. She called from the path. ‘There is a telephone call for Detective Cardilini.’ She paused for a moment and stared at Robson until he nodded his understanding.

  ‘Detective Cardilini, there is a telephone call for you,’ Robson said. Cardilini ignored him, his attention focused on the limestone wall.

  ‘What’s down behind this wall? Cardilini asked.

  ‘There is a call for you,’ Robson repeated.

  ‘Tell them to call back. What’s down here?’

  Robson turned to Miss Reynolds who stood staring. ‘It’s his superior,’ she called.

  ‘It’s your superior,’ Robson relayed to Cardilini.

  ‘Salt, jump up on the wall and draw a picture of what you see. Then, stand at that tree, where Robson picked up the paper, and let no one near it. You got that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ Cardilini said and started across the lawns. Robson and Miss Reynolds zigzagged at pace along the paths.

  ‘Where’s the telephone?’

  ‘The principal’s office,’ a breathless Miss Reynolds called.

  Cardilini ignored Principal Braun when he walked into his office. He sat in the chair he had previously occupied and pulled the phone towards him. ‘Cardilini,’ he stated. He sat and listened eyeing Braun who keenly moved documents from one side of his desk to the other.

  ‘Yes. Yep. Yes, sir. Yep. Yep. No. No,’ Cardilini said at intervals before he finished with, ‘Would I do it any other way, sir?’ and hung up. ‘How about that?’ he mused, ‘Somehow, he knew exactly what I was doing?’ and feigning amazement he asked, ‘How could you account for that?’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Cardilini,’ Braun pushed a document aside patiently and leant back in his chair. ‘I’m aware you’ve had a bad experience with your son’s progress through education. However, that was not with our school.’

  Cardilini sat back, eyebrows raised, a slight smile on his face. Braun continued.

  ‘St Nicholas College has an impeccable reputation that is guarded rigorously by alumi, present students, parents and staff. A reputation hard won over decades, a reputation that will outlast all our current students and me. You could almost say it’s an unwritten motto “Our school before all else”. You can see it fiercely displayed when the boys play sport or when the teachers seek accolades for our boys.’ Braun paused to determine if his oration was having the desired effect. Cardilini still sat with a slight smile on his face, so Braun continued with confidence. ‘This is not your fault. I’m not blaming you. Your immediate superior, Inspector Bishop, simply failed to instruct you correctly. I believe you’re aware that your superintendent and the deputy commissioner are old boys of St Nicholas, so you can see the serious attention this tragic accident has received.’

  The sudden clamour of svoices as students broke for lunch caused the principal to stop his discourse, stand and close a window, before again seating himself comfortably and continuing his ovation.

  Cardilini observed him and reflected on the similarity between this principal and the one that had eventually expelled Paul. He imagined them, along with several of his ambitious colleagues, running around with a high-stepping gait holding their hands firmly over their backsides.

  ‘Cardilini,’ Braun repeated.

  Cardilini blinked several times. ‘Yes?’

  Seven

  Day 2

  St Nicholas College

  12.30 p.m. Monday, 26th October 1965

  As the students emerged for lunch, Salt had completed his drawing and was standing by the assigned tree. Boys, staring in open curiosity, slowly walked past. Salt tried to maintain a professional manner and pose but couldn’t convince himself of the logic of Cardilini’s instruction. The tree, obviously, wasn’t going anywhere. Four younger boys, not content with a passing observation, stood directly facing Salt. Salt watched them. After a while they sat down so as to stare while eating their lunch.

  Another, and then another, knot of young boys paused and started eating their lunch while staring at Salt. Soon, three older boys sauntered over and stood watching the gathering in disdain.

  ‘Which one of you little durrs is eating pork? Because I can smell pig,’ one of the older boys said. This received guffaws and laughter from his mates. The younger boys turned their heads passively to observe the older boys before looking back to Salt. Salt reddened with the insult but stood still.

  ‘Oink. Oink,’ one of the older boys said under his breath to the delight of his two colleagues. Salt reddened further.

  The ‘oinks’ continued. Some of the smaller boys began fighting among themselves and rolling on the grass. Salt stood stricken.

  ‘Get off that grass,’ the command whipped at the group of boys. Salt jumped. Standing on the paving were two boys in grey suits, sixth form students. The younger boys jumped up and ran off along the path. The three older boys, also startled, stepped onto the path.

  ‘Darnley,’ called one of the sixth form boys sharply. Darnley, who’d mentioned ‘pig’, stopped and turned towards the caller.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t think your behaviour goes unobserved.’ Darnley stood looking at him, unimpressed. ‘Do you have something to say?’ the older boy pressed.

  Darnley smiled and nodded to his mates and the three of them casually walked away. The sixth form boys scrutinised Salt for awhile then turned their attention to glaring at passing students who hurried along, eyes averted. Soon, no students walked by. One of the sixth form boys walked closer and stood assessing Salt.

  With deliberation the boy said, ‘The shot came from across the river. They shoot kangaroos in the scrub by the river there.’ He waited for Salt’s reply.

  Salt’s eyes shifted to a young sandy-haired teacher in a well-worn suit walking towards them.

  ‘Excuse me, Carmody,’ the teacher called. The boy kept his eyes on Salt, ignoring the teacher.

  ‘You’re not wanted here,’ Carmody said to Salt.

  ‘Carmody, excuse me. Can I assist you?’ The teacher spoke again.

  ‘No. You can’t,’ Carmody said without turning. A look of helplessness filled the teacher’s eyes.

  ‘I will need to cite you for walking on the grass unless you come onto the path,’ the teacher said to Carmody.

  ‘That would be brave of you,’ Carmody said and turned from Salt to join his friend on the path. They both walked off without further reference to the teacher or Salt.

  ‘I hope they weren’t annoying you. The sixth form boys like to exercise authority at times, particularly that one – Carmody. He’s the unofficial leader of the boarders. There’s a boarders’ captain but everyone knows Carmody is in charge, even the principal. He should’ve been made head boy, that’s why he’s a little difficult.’

  ‘Why wasn’t he?’

  The teacher seemed to consider this before ignoring the question and saying, ‘The younger boys who were eating their lunch are day boys, even though they come from quite a distance.’

  ‘Are you a teacher?’

  ‘Yes. Though not on the permanent staff. Not an old boy, see. They’ll keep me just until one of their own is available. That’s a joke. God, don’t repeat that, please.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘So, you’re a policeman?’

  Salt glanced down at his constable’s uniform before replying, ‘Yes’. The teacher nodded firmly in affirmation as if to reassure Salt that he was indeed a policeman.


  ‘Well, I’m on duty. Can’t linger. It’s just strange seeing some­one standing on the grass. Grass areas are out of bounds to all per­sonnel. That’s a school rule. The thinking is that the students roll about in an unhealthy manner when allowed on the grass. Even when watching sports, students aren’t allowed to lie down together. It’s unmanly. They’re required to sit in a chair or stand. I’m sure that’s half the reason the boys don’t readily watch the sports. Well, I’ve got to go.’ The teacher remained standing where he was, then asked, ‘So, may I ask why you’re standing there? It seems very curious.’

  Salt hesitated until he saw Cardilini marching straight across the quadrangle grass towards him, creating a stir among the students. The teacher turned to where Salt was looking and took an involuntary step back.

  ‘Clear off,’ Cardilini barked at the teacher, who turned on his heel and smartly walked away. ‘Salt. Watch and listen closely and take every detail down in your notebook.’ Cardilini pushed Salt aside and stood examining the tree closely, ‘Now, observe that branch. There, that one. What do you see?’

  Salt studied it closely for some time then turned back to Cardilini. ‘Sorry. I don’t see anything,’ he said.

  Cardilini exhaled heavily. ‘What should we be looking for?’ he demanded.

  Salt considered for a moment, but then shook his head in the negative.

  ‘Okay. You’re Edmund, right? Standing in the window. The open one with the curtains closed. Surveying your little kingdom, stuffed to the brim with how important you are, then bam half your head flies off and you get thrown back into the room to land flat on your back. Right?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Now. From where you were standing the bullet struck you, there,’ Cardilini pushed his right index finger onto Salt’s forehead, the force of it pushing Salt back, ‘then the bullet spread but kept on the same trajectory until it blew off the top of your skull. And its exit was roughly there.’ Cardilini pushed his other index finger on the rear of Salt’s skull. His fingers now held Salt’s head as if in a vice. ‘And you’re looking out the window, right? So what are we looking for down here?’ He took his fingers from Salt and stepped back. Salt turned to the window.