The Final Cut Read online

  ‘Jesus. Do you know where she was cutting herself?’

  ‘Wrists. Lower arms.’

  Cardilini nodded; he’d seen red scarring on Melody’s wrists but thought the bindings had caused it.

  ‘Kopecki found out about Melody and now we think Theresa, too. Theresa’s parents are really lovely people. She has two younger brothers. I don’t think they would understand about Theresa cutting herself. I don’t understand it. I could never speak to Melody about it. I should have, but I didn’t.’

  ‘What about Con, did he know?’

  ‘No,’ Helen said regretfully. ‘The day Kopecki found out about Melody I was with her. Con asked us to take Bruno home. I was driving Con’s car. That was a big thing.’ Helen smiled at the memory. ‘We pulled up in Kopecki’s driveway, because that’s where Con used to park. Kopecki was on the front verandah with some of his friends. He didn’t work but his wife did. He came down to say hello. Melody, because she was always wanting to show how grown up she was, got out of the back seat. I saw Archie try to stop her but she pushed his hand away. Anyway, she kind of displayed herself, leaning against the car. Really, if Con didn’t let her hang around I would have just ditched her; she could be so stupid. I slapped her once … Anyway, Kopecki came up to her and said something about her long sleeves in summer. Melody always wore long-sleeved shirts with the bottom tied off around her waist. The bunched-up shirts made her breasts look bigger.’ She smiled, half in memory. ‘When Melody didn’t answer, he grabbed her wrist and turned it around. I was staring, wondering what on earth he was doing. He slowly pushed up the sleeve with the forefinger of his other hand and when it was halfway up I could see the red and white scarring. Melody was staring down at her wrist as if seeing it for the first time, then she turned her face up to him, frightened. But he smiled back … Bloody wolf. I couldn’t move; I was frozen. Then suddenly Melody burst into life and squirmed and pulled at her wrist, making little whimpering sounds. Archie was still in the car and was beside himself, trying to see what was going on. Melody pulled at her arm like a rabbit with its foot in a trap. She squatted down and danced from side to side. Kopecki just smiled and held her. The other men came over to see what the commotion was. Bruno was pleading with his father to let Melody go and Archie was calling out, wanting to know what was going on.

  ‘The other men were looking at Melody’s wrist, so I did too. But I didn’t really know what I was seeing. Poison ivy went through my mind. I jumped out of the car and ran around to her. Kopecki let her go and turned back to the house, laughing with his mates. Melody jumped into the car and slammed the door, whimpering and pushing at her sleeve. I stood, dumbfounded, staring at the backs of the retreating men. I remember looking at Bruno. He was distraught. I told him, not for the first time, to take his mum and get away. I said something not very nice about his father. Years before, I’d seen Kopecki take off this big thick belt and lay into Bruno. His mum went to protect him and Kopecki laid into her, too. And that was in their front yard in broad daylight! Anyway, Kopecki would use the fact that Melody cut herself against her. He already had something over Archie.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It was something. But the night Bernie was run down …’ She paused, unsure how to proceed. Cardilini told her that the police had concluded it was probably someone passing through Geraldton. She turned her face to him and he could see there was more to the story. ‘When Bruno was in high school he told Con that Kopecki was teaching him to drive … Bruno could already drive; he and Con had been hooning around in old cars since they were twelve. Anyway, Kopecki was in the passenger seat and told Bruno where to go, so he did, and they turned into the street of the local policeman. This copper had a Labrador, a beautiful dog called Golden. Golden would sit on the verge outside the copper’s house and wander up to passers-by and nuzzle them. Kopecki told Bruno to drive down close to the verge. Just as Golden was standing to look at the car, Kopecki reached across and pulled the steering wheel so the car jumped up onto the verge and hit Golden. Kopecki then stuck his leg across and pushed Bruno’s foot down so the car accelerated.’ Helen looked up meaningfully to Cardilini, who nodded his encouragement to go on. ‘Bernie was just a kid at the time. A nice kid, younger than us, but we all knew each other.’ She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. ‘He was walking home one night and heard the car coming up behind him. He remembered turning to wave, then he just saw headlights and he didn’t wake up for days.’

  ‘You think Kopecki did it?’

  ‘Con thinks it might have been Melody at the wheel with Archie in the back seat.’

  ‘The car was never found.’

  Helen gave an imperceptible shake of her head. ‘What if a stolen car turns up later smashed into a tree?’

  ‘Is that what happened?’

  ‘Why don’t you check?’

  Cardilini sipped his tea. Helen looked out to the street again, then continued.

  ‘Archie and Melody left town. They both worshipped Con. Archie had every reason to be thankful to Con. They never said goodbye. When Con came back he figured it all out and went to see Kopecki. Con is a very gentle, loving man but … Kopecki was found so badly beaten he had to be airlifted to Perth, never to return. Bruno and his mum followed a few weeks later. No one ever questioned Con about it.’

  Cardilini looked at his notebook. The pages were blank. He closed it and pushed it into his back pocket. ‘What about Theresa Ruben?’

  ‘Con said Kopecki threatened to hurt her young brothers. That would be enough for Theresa. That and the cutting Kopecki knew about. She was terrified of her family finding out. I didn’t understand it at the time and I had just had a baby. Bruno had told Con that during the war his father had worked for the Germans, and that he was allowed to do anything he liked to the women they held. He made a big thing about that as if it made him special in some way.’

  ‘Did he say what sort of things he did to the women?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘Con never asked and I don’t want to even imagine, but he deserved the beating Con gave him.’

  Cardilini ran his hand across his forehead.

  ‘You should speak to Genya’s dad. He always said Kopecki was zlowrogi, evil. They came out illegally on the same ship.’ Helen started and gave a quick look in the direction of Genya. ‘Oh my God. You can never tell anyone that. Promise me.’

  ‘I want Kopecki.’

  ‘Bugger him, I mean Genya’s father.’

  Cardilini looked in Genya’s direction. So many had come after the war; many Europeans, escaping. ‘Sure,’ he said.

  ‘Promise,’ Helen insisted.

  ‘I promise.’ He liked the idea that a promise held good in Geraldton.

  Helen sighed with relief and smiled. He smiled too at the simplicity of it, half wondering how he and Paul would go living in the country. He watched Con stride back across the road towards the café. He figured not many people in Geraldton would be breaking promises made to Helen Michelakos.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Monday, 29 November 1965

  5.30 p.m.

  As the afternoon shadows lengthened, a thickset man accom­­panied Daniel Abraham – walking an imperceptible step behind – into the foyer of the Palace Hotel. Abraham indicated for the man to wait and proceeded to the elevator. He ignored the respectful words and lowered head of the elevator operator as the doors slowly closed.

  Daniel Abraham enjoyed a certain notoriety among his circle of acquaintances. He was impeccably presented: black hair trimmed precisely around the ears, square cut at the back, combed to the right and glistening with hair oil. At midday a faint bluish shadow was visible at his jaw, lending him an air of masculine pride. Small, dark eyes glittered cold like hard diamonds over raised fleshy cheeks. Red lips, full and pouting, completed the portrait of a successful man, fully in control.

  When the elevator reached
the eighth floor, he exited, knocked on a door and entered without waiting for a response. To his right, a woman sat clutching her torn blouse. Her make-up was smeared, mascara running down her cheeks. Abraham turned scornful eyes to her, pulled out his wallet and extracted twenty pounds. As she stood to reach for it, he shot his hand out and grabbed her by the throat. Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped, gasping for air. Abraham smiled. Careful not to touch her lips, he pushed the notes into her mouth. He then stepped back and opened the door for her.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Monday, 29 November 1965

  6 p.m.

  Clutching a piece of paper, Melody sat looking at the brand-new dress, laying on top of its box. It was the faintest shade of sky blue, very thin organza, diaphanous but full, cut so it rose and fell like a fairy’s dress. A full, many-layered petticoat lay beside it, while draped across the dress was a pair of sheer white stockings. White high-heeled shoes sat, part in, part out of their own box; there was no accompanying underwear. When she’d asked about it she was told if it wasn’t supplied it wasn’t required. Idiots, she thought. The cutting and pulling of the underwear allowed her to build tension. When Archie arrived, she’d follow up on that. They told her he was doing a job for them … what sort of job they wouldn’t say, but Archie would tell her. It must be something important and complicated because it had been four long days since she’d been stuck in this caravan in the middle of nowhere.

  An apology was made for the rough treatment she’d received, blaming the stupidity of the men who apparently hadn’t followed instructions. She didn’t accept the apology graciously. She knew her worth; her performances – when Archie wasn’t drunk – were first class. She could scream to thrill, then scream again in a higher octave, convincing any doubters that the pain was real: what Melody Archer offered wasn’t easy to come by. She was confident and now excited by the prospect of an appreciative audience. She was also excited at seeing Archie again.

  She asked herself if she was being stupid or naive. The answer had always been ‘no’: she was worth too much. But now the piece of paper scrunched tightly in her hand sowed the seeds of doubt. She was finding it difficult to process the memories of what had brought her to this; connecting unwanted information made her breathing shallow and uncomfortable. She’d found the scrap of paper tucked between the glass and backing board as she cleaned the dressing table mirror. It was delicate wrapping paper, similar to the tissue around the dress from the box. The date on the note was nearly twelve months ago. There was a name, a name she knew even though she hadn’t known the girl very well. The girl and her family, who lived in the posh part of Geraldton, had looked down on Melody and her mother. The girl had left Geraldton suddenly. Con was in jail at the time for the morphine Archie stole from the hospital, and everything was wrong.

  Mr Kopecki had found out she cut herself. He wanted to watch her and he made her feel good about it. He said she could make a lot of money if it was handled correctly, if she let someone else cut her while she screamed, as if in pain. She said she liked the pain, it made her feel powerful. He smiled and said he knew it did; he knew other girls who did the same thing. Melody didn’t believe him but gave a coy smile. He said she would be fantastic and it would only take one performance to the right people and she and Archie would have all the money they wanted. Her dream future was waiting.

  Shortly after that she told Archie and though he hadn’t wanted her doing it she knew she had power over him. She made him practise cutting himself before she let him touch her. Her ability to control his horror excited her – his reaction was in her hands. She then wanted an audience. To be centre stage, to be wanted.

  But nothing went as planned. She and Archie were taken to Kalgoorlie and she had to work alongside prostitutes. That was not part of the deal. She’d ended up where her mother had said she would. This was not how she had foreseen her life, her future. She deserved so much more. Her dream must come true: fame and fortune were what she still believed was possible. If she used her looks and ability in the right circles, her time would come.

  Now, in a few days, she had her opportunity, a real opportunity: she was to be filmed. A breath of excitement and joy filled her. Finally, all her dreams would be fulfilled; she would be spotted, and she could stop cutting herself, and she would become a real actress.

  She tossed the scrap of paper onto the bed along with her doubt.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Tuesday, 30 November 1965

  10 a.m.

  The following morning, back at East Perth, Cardilini told Spencer everything he had found out from Con and Helen Michelakos. ‘But wait for it, the ship that Kopecki and Genya’s father, Majewski, came out to Australia on was an Abraham line ship.’

  Spencer looked up from her notes. ‘Sally’s husband’s company?’

  ‘That’s right, and there were other passengers, passengers Majewski never got to see. The rumour was they were Germans escaping war crimes.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense. The Abrahams are Jews, they’re not going to help Germans.’

  Cardilini shrugged. ‘As I said, that was the rumour at the time. Majewski couldn’t confirm it one way or another.’

  ‘So when do you get Kopecki’s address?’ Spencer checked.

  ‘I don’t know. Con’s not sure he can get it.’

  ‘Okay. Now can we go and see Nic Gismondi at the Blue Ribbon?’

  Cardilini’s mind was still on the Geraldton evidence. ‘If you think it’s important.’

  ‘I do, but we’d better tell Bishop,’ Spencer said.

  Cardilini paused, looking directly at her. ‘Since when do we tell Bishop we’re going for a drink?’

  The phone rang and Spencer rolled her eyes as she answered. ‘Yes, sir.’ She hung up, then said with a sly smile, ‘Robinson said get Cardilini up here now.’

  ***

  Robinson got straight to the point. ‘Cardilini, what are our chances of a prosecution?’

  ‘A prosecution of whom?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Didn’t Spencer tell you? The deputy commissioner stated at the press conference yesterday that we have a suspect in the Hardy murder case.’

  ‘Jennifer Clancy? He didn’t mention her name, I hope.’

  ‘Yes, Clancy, and thankfully, no, he didn’t name her.’

  Spencer butted in, ‘She’s out of the frame, sir.’

  ‘That I know, Spencer. The deputy commissioner was not a happy chappy when I had to tell him that. What the hell were you thinking suggesting she be released, Cardilini?’

  ‘There were a number of questions that I would like answered first.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ Robinson waved his hand dismissively. ‘But she’s still our only suspect. If Clancy manages to get a decent lawyer, how easy would it be for them to pick the case apart?’

  ‘Ask the prosecutor’s office.’

  ‘The deputy commissioner wants our opinion first.’ Robinson looked from Cardilini to Spencer.

  ‘My opinion?’ Cardilini said. ‘Still the same: we don’t have enough to prosecute.’

  ‘Sir, I think their whole case is suspect,’ Spencer said. ‘There’s no physical evidence placing Jennifer Clancy in the park or linking her to Hardy’s death.’

  ‘She’s the lawyer,’ Cardilini said and winked.

  ‘Okay, okay, but I don’t like it. This needs to get sorted, quickly. You two are now officially on Hardy’s case along with Spry and Archer. I’ll ring them. Get down there and start again if you have to. I’m putting you in charge, Cardilini. The deputy commissioner has stuck his neck out saying we have a suspect. You better save it.’

  ‘But we’re working on something else at the moment, remember?’

  ‘We’re waiting for the forensics report on that,’ Robinson said. ‘It isn’t even a case. Even if forensics come back and support our suspicions it still isn’
t a case until the press are satisfied with the Hardy outcome. That’s official.’

  ‘The press?’

  ‘The public, the press. Yes, of course, one thing at a time. Now go.’

  As they walked down the corridor Spencer asked, ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Well, that “drink" we were going to have at the Blue Ribbon will have to wait until we make sure Spry and Archer have a solid case with Clancy.’

  ‘What if she didn’t do it?’

  ‘I don’t know, but to get a hit of heroin she will probably confess. They might pick her up again to just get that happening, get a quick response, a conclusion. We can’t let them do that.’

  ‘They wouldn’t, surely?’

  ‘Who knows. Let’s get our notes and go see them. They won’t be happy, but that’s not our problem.’

  ***

  Spry and Archer were definitely not happy and demanded to know whose idea it was putting Cardilini and Spencer on the case.

  Cardilini held up both hands in innocence. ‘Not ours. This is so the deputy commissioner doesn’t end up with egg on his face.’ He and Spencer sat. ‘Have you got anything else? Anything that places Clancy in the park?’ The detectives looked miserable as they shook their heads. ‘No clothing or jewellery? Knife? Witnesses?’

  ‘No one could put Hardy or Clancy in the park the hours it was supposed to have happened,’ Spry said. Cardilini glanced at Spencer. Spry noticed. ‘What?’

  Cardilini shrugged. ‘We heard the same story.’

  ‘He was obviously killed there,’ Spry said, looking to Archer who put his hands up in surrender. ‘But forensics had some complications with the blood.’

  Cardilini sat forward. ‘What sort of “complications"?’