The Final Cut Page 14

  ‘I bet they were,’ Cardilini said.

  ‘Do I have a choice?’ Spencer asked Robinson. He paused, then shook his head. ‘Oh. Well. I’ll … When?’

  ‘When you’re ready, no rush.’

  ‘How much time?’ Cardilini asked. Spencer turned to Cardilini, who wasn’t looking at her but at his tightly laced fingers on his lap.

  ‘A week, if you need it,’ Robinson replied.

  ‘Okay. I’ll finish the file on the Coopers, then,’ Spencer said uncertainly. Robinson and Cardilini both nodded. She stood awkwardly and walked towards the door, hesitated a moment and then left the office.

  Robinson sighed heavily. ‘Shit.’

  ‘Yeah, well done,’ Cardilini said.

  ‘Don’t get on your high horse with me. You played into the deputy commissioner’s hands. After her speech on Tuesday, people were talking. They were saying, has someone gone mad? Are the police going to be umpires between husbands and wives? And they’re right. The deputy commissioner saw it and he knew he had to get the hell out of it.’

  ‘That’s no bloody good. She’s not ready to start over in Midland.’

  ‘She’ll be fine. She’s good. She stood up to you. She’ll figure it out if she hasn’t already. She’ll want to get back to some real detective work. We knew you wouldn’t lead her up the garden path. And it’s good to have a woman around.’

  ‘Yeah, so good she’s getting the boot.’

  ‘No. She’s going to greener pastures.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘If you want to view this thing negatively—’ Robinson started.

  ‘Listen to yourself,’ Cardilini snapped.

  Robinson pushed the papers into a file and put it aside. ‘Okay. Yeah, it stinks. It wasn’t her fault. But there’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing you can do.’

  ‘But she’s onto something,’ Cardilini said.

  ‘Yeah, a train to Midland. Leave it. And you’ve created a first, Cardilini. Her last three partners all asked to be shifted from her.’

  ‘Thanks for telling me. You know Midland will be bad for her. This is a bloody cock-up.’ Cardilini took a big breath, then hung out a limp carrot. ‘There’s another domestic abuse case we were looking at.’

  ‘What? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘We didn’t want to make something of it until we were sure. It’s not like the Cooper case; this one’s a high-profile family.’

  ‘No, no, no. Jesus, Cardilini, no. I want something simple: husband belts wife, police prosecute – or wife prosecutes – husband gets penalty. We’ve got to give the prosecutor something he can run with, hence Midland Junction. Can you get something like that?’

  ‘I’m sure we can …’

  ‘You’d have to guarantee it,’ Robinson said.

  ‘And if we do, Spencer can stay at East Perth?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘That could be the deal.’ Robinson poked at the file with his finger.

  ‘You had this in mind from the start, didn’t you?’

  ‘Did you give me a choice? You were wasting department time and money on a wild goose chase. I was getting heat.’

  ‘Where’s all this coming from?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Can you build a case? Can we do this?’

  ‘Isn’t this a bit like putting the cart before the horse?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, this is what the new age is all about. Public scrutiny is going to be driving our agenda from now on. I want you on board, Cardilini; Bishop isn’t going to last forever.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Tell me what you want in plain English.’

  ‘Fine. Husband beats wife. Photos of bruises leaked to the press. Public outcry. But the husband needs to be a real bastard, not just an ordinary Joe. Something serious, maybe seen kicking a neighbour’s dog as well. You follow?’

  ‘I don’t bloody believe this.’ Cardilini sat shaking his head.

  ‘Believe it. We need enough public outcry for the state prosecutor to get heat from the politicians. There are a couple of pollies more than willing to grandstand on it.’ Cardilini was still shaking his head. ‘You want Spencer to stay at East Perth? You know what to do.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Thursday, 25 November 1965

  12.30 p.m.

  Spencer looked up as Cardilini entered their office. ‘Well?’

  ‘He wants us to find a domestic ugly enough to hit the press. Leaked photos and all.’

  Spencer looked incredulously at him. ‘He said that?’

  ‘Not quite. But I read between the lines.’ Cardilini sat down, avoiding her eyes. ‘Ideally, the perpetrator would be a real bastard whose neighbour has a dog.’

  ‘A dog?’

  ‘Can we manage that?’

  ‘I don’t think so. But what about the clerk of courts? That’s where the police refer them. Robinson said he’d give them a call if we ever wanted to go.’

  ***

  A couple of hours later, Cardilini and Spencer sat side by side on a hard bench outside the clerk of court’s office. On a bench against the opposite wall sat a woman in her twenties with two children. The left side of her pinched face was black with bruises; her open, swollen mouth revealed a chipped tooth. The boy, perhaps eight or nine, sat sour-faced, occasionally kicking at a younger girl playing with a doll on the floor. A door bearing the title ‘Clerk of Courts’ opened. A short, dapper man in a dark-blue, pin-striped double-breasted suit stood surveying the anteroom. Spencer got up.

  ‘Yes?’ the man said sharply.

  ‘I’m Spencer and this is Cardilini. I rang you.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ the man said, observing Cardilini. He then shifted his gaze to the other bench. ‘Name?’ he asked the young woman.

  ‘Holmes,’ she said and then awkwardly stood as if that was expected of her.

  ‘Right.’ He looked at his watch, then back at the woman. ‘You, sit.’ He cast his eye over the children and instructed, ‘No noise out here.’ He signalled with his index finger for Spencer and Cardilini to follow him. Cardilini was about to say something but Spencer shook her head.

  Inside his office, the clerk gestured to some bare wooden chairs. ‘I can’t say this is a pleasant surprise,’ he said. ‘If it wasn’t for your superintendent we wouldn’t be talking at all. This is a civil proceeding and we don’t appreciate interference.’

  ‘Assault is a civil offence?’ Cardilini said.

  The clerk turned sharp eyes to him. ‘Of course it’s a civil matter. If it were a criminal matter you’d be dealing with it. Now, during the interview, you’re not to ask questions. Actually, you’re not to speak at all. It was on those grounds that we consented to this. You’re to act as observers only.’ The clerk got up and walked to the door. He called, ‘Come,’ and walked back to his desk. Mrs Holmes appeared and he instructed her to sit down. She sat in the only remaining chair, the children by her side. ‘Right, Mrs Holmes, is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Ignore these two police officers. They’re here to observe only. Are you married, Mrs Holmes?’

  ‘What? Yes.’

  ‘And is your husband Mr Holmes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tell me what brought you here.’

  ‘I was told to come.’

  ‘By whom?’ The clerk pulled a file from his in tray.

  ‘Last time I came, I was told.’

  ‘Again. By whom?’

  ‘Someone out there, last time.’

  ‘So you’re a regular.’

  ‘It keeps happening.’

  ‘What are you doing that provokes it to keep happening?’ the clerk asked.

  ‘He drinks.’

  ‘What have you done or not done so he has to drink?’

  The woman looked to Spencer as
if asking her for help with the question.

  ‘You’re to ignore them. I told you that a minute ago. Tell me what happened.’

  The woman looked at her children.

  ‘Right, you two wait outside,’ the clerk said sharply to the children. They looked to their mother and she nodded for them to go. The door closed.

  ‘He hit me and kicked me, then …’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You had marital relations?’

  After a pause she said, ‘I … I don’t know.’

  The clerk sat back, shaking his head.

  ‘Did he force you to have sex with him?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Yes,’ the woman said.

  ‘I don’t even know what marital relations means, but there’s your answer,’ Cardilini said to the clerk.

  ‘What were you doing prior to having marital relations?’ the clerk asked as he ticked boxes on a form in front of him.

  ‘I was crying.’

  ‘Were you in the matrimonial bedroom?’ The clerk looked to Cardilini as he asked this.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did you say to your husband before he hit you?’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘And before that?’

  She nervously ran her hand across her destroyed mouth. ‘Don’t,’ she repeated.

  ‘To what question or action of your husband’s did you say “don’t"?’

  ‘My mouth was sore where he hit me.’

  The clerk shook his head. ‘He’s not going to hit you for no reason. You provoked him again, didn’t you? You should think about your behaviour. Think about how you can improve your behaviour. I don’t want to see you back here again. It can’t be good for the children; think what you’re putting them through. If you are selfish in a relationship, if you argue with your husband or are critical of him, you will bring this upon yourself. You should have learnt this by now. I begin to wonder if you are serious in your efforts to avoid his responses. And looking at this record I have to ask myself, are you intentionally behaving in a manner to provoke such responses?’

  The woman looked down at the floor before asking, ‘What will happen?’

  ‘What would you like to happen?’ the clerk asked.

  ‘He should stop.’

  ‘He will, if you behave yourself.’ The clerk ticked a few more boxes on the sheet before him then placed it to the side. ‘Does your husband work?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is he at work at the moment?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why aren’t your children at school?’

  ‘I didn’t wake them up in time.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I couldn’t get out of bed, I wasn’t feeling well.’

  ‘What time did your husband go to work?’

  ‘He usually leaves at seven.’

  ‘He’s working and you’re in bed and the children are uncared for. You have responsibilities. Have you made your home a good environment for your children, for your husband? It would seem not. Is that fair? Is that the correct behaviour? I don’t see your husband here complaining about you, do I?’

  The woman gave a puzzled look at the clerk and then turned the same expression to Cardilini and Spencer.

  ‘They’re police, they can’t help you, it’s up to you. Do you want his admonishing of you to continue, or to cease?’

  ‘I want him to stop hitting me.’

  The clerk looked on with some apprehension. ‘Good. In that case, behave.’ He paused to see if his message had gotten through; the woman replied with a nod. ‘You can go now.’

  Mrs Holmes kept her eyes on the floor as she passed Cardilini and Spencer and closed the door quietly behind her.

  The clerk ran his hand through his hair as if straightening his thoughts. ‘As you’re well aware we haven’t had a husband convicted when actions of this type go before the courts, so the best outcome is for the wife to modify her behaviour.’ He stood slowly, indicating the session was over.

  Cardilini got up and walked out as Spencer thanked the clerk. He was standing in the corridor with a cigarette in his mouth when she joined him and suggested they talk to the woman. They quickly left the court and caught up with Mrs Holmes as she shepherded her children down the footpath.

  ‘Mrs Holmes. I’m Detective Spencer and this is Detective Sergeant Cardilini.’

  ‘What?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘Could we buy you a cup of tea?’ Spencer asked.

  Mrs Holmes looked to her children then back to Spencer. ‘Why?’

  ‘We just want to talk. We might be able to stop your husband from hitting you.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Shall we go to the café?’ Cardilini suggested and started walking. Mrs Holmes and the children followed.

  In the small café nearby, the children sat on a bench under the front window and ate ice creams. Cardilini and Spencer sat at a table across from Mrs Holmes and explained how a prosecution would work.

  ‘But in court I’d have to say what happens?’ Mrs Holmes asked doubtfully.

  ‘That’s right,’ Cardilini said.

  ‘With everybody listening?’ After a pause Spencer told her she would. ‘And that would make him stop?’

  ‘Yes,’ Spencer said. ‘He’ll be afraid of going to prison.’

  ‘He could go to prison?’

  ‘Yes, of course, it’s assault,’ Spencer said.

  ‘I don’t want him going to prison. How will I feed the kids? If I can’t look after them they’ll be taken away. Is that how you’re going to solve it?’

  ‘Do you have any savings?’ Spencer asked but her tone suggested she already knew the answer. ‘Could you stay with your parents? Or someone else, maybe?’

  Mrs Holmes looked from Spencer to Cardilini in disbelief, and then stood.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Spencer asked her.

  ‘I’m going to try and behave,’ she said, and called to her children.

  ‘Who suggested you go back to the clerk of courts?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘A lady at the council,’ Mrs Holmes said.

  ‘Would you mind if we took some photos?’ Spencer called as they watched her walk quickly from the café. It was too late.

  The waitress brought their tea and took the third cup away. They poured discontentedly.

  ‘This is more complicated than I thought,’ Spencer finally said.

  ‘Yep. She seems like a nice woman.’

  ‘So why is her husband hitting her? Is that what you’re thinking?’

  ‘Yeah, something like that. What do we do now?’

  ‘We could press charges.’

  ‘How?’ Cardilini said, irritated. ‘She can’t be forced to be a witness against him. He won’t get prison time. He’d just go home and hit her harder.’

  ‘But what he’s doing is a crime.’

  ‘Sure.’ Cardilini was running out of patience. ‘But you tell me what should happen.’

  ‘He should be charged with assault and he should go to jail.’

  ‘Right. And the kids are made wards of the state. A real success story.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Thursday, 25 November 1965

  5 p.m.

  Though still bound and gagged, Melody could feel she was being carried. She could feel cool air and smell the sharp scent of eucalyptus. She savoured it. Never before had she been so overcome by a scent, never before had it meant so much.

  ‘Melody, you still alive?’ a male voice asked. Then laughter.

  ‘She better be.’

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ the first voice answered.

  She could feel hands on her ankles and shoulders. An acrid, dusty smell replaced the crispness of the eucalyptus. She heard a door o
pen; she was being carried upstairs, two stairs. The mix of vinyl upholstery and dirty carpet raked at her nostrils. Another car? She tried to speak but the gag held her tongue firm. She was lowered and felt the give of a mattress. A tremble ran through her as fingers worked at her gag and the binding on her legs. Two sets of fingers. She pushed at the gag with her tongue. Finally, the gag burst from her mouth and she gasped for air. Her legs felt crippled.

  ‘She’s alive,’ a male voice trumpeted and the other joked, ‘Shut it. Save your screaming. You’re going to need it.’ More laughter. A door slammed. Melody pulled the binding from her eyes; it was daytime, she was in a caravan.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Thursday, 25 November 1965

  8.15 p.m.

  Driving home, as the wash of the headlights flooded the road, Cardilini mulled over the afternoon’s work. He thought about his and Spencer’s attempts at closing the Cooper investigation. And he thought about Hardy’s murder. Occasionally, from out of left field, Spencer had suggested something new they could do to prosecute Mrs Holmes’ husband. However, each option would invariably land her in a worse situation. When a disheartened Spencer had finally left the office for the day, they both knew she was going to be sent to Midland Junction at the end of the week.

  Like a dog with a bone, Cardilini had stayed back, going through the files again and making calls. He even reluctantly took Spencer’s initiative and made some notes.

  Archie Cooper’s first conviction was in the coastal town of Geraldton, 270 miles north of Perth: stealing from Geraldton Golf Club as a juvenile.

  Melody Cooper, formally Melody Penny, did not have a police record.

  A local policeman recalled Archie and Melody leaving Geraldton after falling foul of someone, or under suspicion of another crime. The policeman would try to find out which.

  Two names that came up were Con Michelakos and Bruno Kopecki.

  While quietly making his notes, he overheard a conversation between Spry and Archer. It got under his skin. On their way out, unaware Cardilini was still in his office, they were discussing Hardy and the prostitute he beat up. They’d since arrested her and had her in their sights for his murder: a classic case of revenge rage. Cardilini knew her, Jennifer Clancy, but it didn’t add up. His gut said she wasn’t capable of it.