The Final Cut Page 6

  ‘I didn’t realise I was grandstanding,’ she replied tightly.

  ‘Good thing I told you, then.’

  The nurse signalled and ushered them into a curtained area of the ward.

  Melody Cooper sat up in bed, dark eyes wide and fearful, her hair fanning out like a halo on the purity of the white pillow. She’s a child, Cardilini thought, a beautiful, lost child.

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Cardilini; this is Detective Constable Spencer. Do you remember us?’

  ‘I remember her. She found me.’ Melody’s voice was soft and vulnerable.

  ‘How would you like us to address you, Mrs Cooper?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Melody,’ she said with a quick, uncertain glance at Spencer.

  ‘Okay. You can call me Cardilini, and this is Spencer.’

  Melody relaxed a little and smiled tentatively at Spencer, who smiled back.

  ‘Can you tell us what happened before we arrived at your house?’ Cardilini asked. Melody’s big eyes rolled left then right. ‘Take your time.’

  ‘He hasn’t come to visit me; do you have him?’ she asked.

  ‘Your husband?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you want him to come?’ Spencer asked.

  ‘Yes. He should.’ Melody sounded certain of this, but also close to tears.

  ‘What would you say to him?’

  ‘I’d ask him where the hell he has been!’

  ‘He’s still in police custody at Fremantle,’ Cardilini said. Melody seemed puzzled by this.

  ‘Why do you want to see him?’ Spencer asked.

  Melody appeared confused. ‘Well … he should come,’ she replied as though it was clearly expected.

  ‘Has he visited other times you’ve been in hospital?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘Every time.’

  ‘Did you try to leave him?’ Spencer asked. Melody tightened her lips at the question. ‘I mean, did you try to leave him, and he stopped you?’

  ‘No.’ Her head shook in a definite negative. Her bottom lip was trembling.

  Spencer softened her tone. ‘Did you know you can pursue a prosecution against him to stop him hurting you?’

  ‘No.’ Melody’s eyes registered confusion and uncertainty.

  ‘No one has told you that?’ Spencer asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What was happening at the house before we arrived?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘He tied me to the chair, didn’t he?’

  ‘Okay. What were you doing before he tied you to the chair?’

  The tears were now gone. ‘We’d gone for a drink.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘The Norfolk.’

  ‘Nice. Do you usually drink there?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘No. We drink all over,’ Melody said proudly.

  ‘What’s your favourite place?’ Spencer asked.

  ‘The Norfolk,’ Melody said with a shrug of her shoulders and a tiny, wry smile.

  ‘Are you in much pain, Melody?’

  ‘No …’ She thought for a moment. ‘But more than I should be.’ She seemed to be weighing things up. ‘So, can I have him prosecuted?’

  ‘Yes,’ Spencer replied.

  ‘What will happen to him?’

  ‘He could go to jail,’ Cardilini said lightly. Melody looked away and smoothed the bed sheet with her hand. ‘But he’d probably just get a caution.’

  ‘He’d been drinking,’ Melody said. ‘He knows he shouldn’t.’

  ‘Tie you up and cut you?’ Spencer clarified.

  ‘He shouldn’t drink. And it hurt yesterday … It’s frightening, he really frightened me.’

  ‘We can stop it,’ Cardilini said.

  ‘How?’

  ‘We prosecute him.’

  The tears started to well again as Melody nodded her head. Then, as if she wasn’t aware of what was happening, they spilled over her beautiful cheeks. Eventually she brought her hands up to her face and sobbed.

  The curtains parted and Matron Jones announced herself. Cardilini indicated to Spencer to take some photos while he stepped out, ushering the matron with him. She was needle thin, shorter than him but tall for a woman, her uniform starched so stiff you could sharpen a pencil on the pleats. Her walk was brisk, her low-heeled shoes clacking on the passageway. He followed her into an office a few doors from the ward where he sat on one side of the desk and she on the other. Matron Jones prodded a file in front of her and spoke for the first time in a voice as sharp as her uniform, ‘What do you want with this?’

  ‘It’s hardly your concern.’

  She looked to the file and then slowly aligned it squarely between them. ‘I know how to be difficult, too, Detective Sergeant Cardilini.’

  ‘I bet you do.’

  ‘I repeat: what do you want with this?’

  ‘I want it to stop happening.’

  ‘How?’

  Cardilini sighed. ‘By prosecuting her husband.’

  ‘Who will prosecute him?’

  ‘I will,’ Cardilini said.

  The matron smiled. ‘She won’t help you, you know.’

  ‘She wants it to stop,’ Cardilini replied. The matron smiled again, shook her head and, extending her skinny index finger, pushed the file towards Cardilini. He opened it and ran an eye over the tight, neat writing. ‘Very tidy,’ he said. He read further, then looked up. ‘Morphine?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In her system when she was admitted? That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Someone administered it. It’s not that difficult.’

  ‘The ambulance crew?’ Cardilini asked.

  ‘No, and that’s the first time she’s arrived by ambulance.’

  ‘Do you know how or where she got it?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Was it reported?’

  ‘No. We’re not required to.’

  Cardilini read further. ‘It doesn’t say who admitted her. Do you keep a record of that sort of thing?’

  ‘That’s not my area.’

  ‘It was mentioned to me at reception that Melody had, on occasion, been admitted by the police.’ The matron looked back, unmoved. Cardilini went back to the notes. ‘Are the cuts always shallow?’

  ‘If that’s what it says.’

  ‘What do you think is going on?’ He looked up and stared at the matron while she looked back passively. ‘You met her husband?’

  ‘I’ve seen him.’

  ‘How do they seem together?’

  The matron sighed impatiently. ‘They seem like a normal couple. They get upset and argue.’

  ‘Argue about what?’

  ‘I don’t listen.’

  ‘About his abuse?’

  ‘His drinking, I think it was, one time. I have personally escorted him from the hospital.’

  Cardilini smiled and didn’t doubt it.

  ‘That might be humorous to you,’ the matron said, ‘but it’s a waste of time for me.’

  Cardilini nodded and went back to the notes. ‘The rope abrasions on the wrists and neck aren’t always recorded.’

  ‘When they’re apparent they are,’ the matron said.

  ‘She presents without any abrasions?’

  ‘You have her record in front of you.’

  Cardilini closed the file. ‘Do you have a problem with the police, or is it just me?’

  ‘I don’t have a problem with the police, or you. Are you finished?’

  ‘Not quite. When will she be able to go home?’

  ‘The ambulance crew addressed the cuts quickly. She could leave today.’

  ‘That wasn’t the ambulance crew, that was me,’ Cardilini smiled as he spoke.

  The matron looked back, amused. ‘The torn sheet was
you?’

  ‘Yep,’ Cardilini said, anticipating some praise.

  ‘Get a clean one next time,’ she said archly.

  Cardilini rephrased his earlier question. ‘What do you think happened to her?’

  ‘I don’t think, Detective Sergeant Cardilini, I repair.’ Both her hands came flat onto the desk, ending the meeting.

  Cardilini nodded. ‘Can I use your phone?’

  ‘If you must. Close the door behind you.’ The matron had more important things to do and left.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Friday, 19 November 1965

  12.10 p.m.

  ‘She’s tiny,’ Spencer said as they drove to the Norfolk Hotel. ‘Her age is recorded as twenty-two but I think she could be younger. When I asked her about being photographed she went into a kind of fog. While I was taking shots she just stared at the ceiling as if in a trance.’

  Cardilini, deep in thought, nodded vaguely.

  ‘And really quite beautiful, didn’t you think?’

  Cardilini nodded again.

  ‘Those eyes; she should be in the movies.’

  ‘Hmm. Did you get any understanding of what she was thinking?’

  Spencer sighed. ‘No. She’d been admitted to hospital twice before for the cuts.’

  ‘Did you get photos of all those old cuts?’

  ‘Yes. She said usually they’re shallower but Archie was drunk yesterday.’

  ‘That’s odd, don’t you think?’

  ‘She can put on a tough exterior but she’s childish in many ways and a lot of what she said was very immature.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘She still believes he loves her. She was more concerned that he hadn’t come to visit her this time. Normally he tells her he loves her and is really sorry.’

  ‘Why isn’t she horrified? Why doesn’t she run away? I don’t get it.’

  Spencer watched the passing houses, a man and woman sitting on a bench. She felt a tremor go through her. ‘It’s hard for a woman to leave a marriage, Cardilini. It’s happening too often to too many couples.’

  Cardilini parked in Essex Street and they walked the short distance to the Norfolk. It was cool and dark inside and the smell of beer immediately assaulted Cardilini’s senses. He felt a melting of the resistance he had imposed on himself. He felt faint. He took in the six drinkers sitting in the public bar: four had pints, two at the end chatted over middies; all glasses were more than half full. He swallowed feverishly.

  Spencer gave him a quizzical look as a barman called out to her, ‘You order from the ladies’ bar, luv.’ The main bar ran the length between two sections that were separated by a brick wall and doorway. The ladies’ bar was through the doorway.

  ‘We’re not drinking,’ Cardilini grunted and held out his badge. ‘Detective Sergeant Cardilini and Detective Constable Spencer. Who are you?’

  ‘Why?’ the barman said, taking in a few of the drinkers with a glance. He was in his forties: grey hair, tanned, with a slim, athletic build.

  ‘Because I asked,’ Cardilini growled.

  The barman watched Spencer pull out her notebook. ‘I don’t have to say nothing,’ he answered with a scowl.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot. I can just ask your boss, then I can really give you a hard time.’

  ‘Donnie Paris,’ he said, clearing his throat.

  ‘That wasn’t too painful, was it?’ Cardilini snapped.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Archie Cooper mentioned you to us,’ Cardilini said. ‘He and his missus Melody were having a drink here yesterday.’

  ‘Yeah. So?’ Donnie said with a half-smile.

  ‘You blokes look after yourselves for a while,’ Cardilini said, nodding to the drinkers. ‘Donnie here’s going to have a little chat with us.’ Cardilini pointed to the ladies’ bar. He felt prickles of sweat on his face and under his arms. He needed to get out of here, get this done fast.

  ‘I hardly know Archie,’ Donnie said, losing a little of his bravado without his audience.

  ‘Tell me exactly what was going on with Archie and Melody yesterday.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You say why again and I’m going to take you down to East Perth for questioning. If I’m not satisfied for one second that you’re telling me everything, I’m booking you for obstruction. You got that?’

  ‘Okay. Jesus. I got nothing to hide.’

  ‘I’m just about out of patience,’ Cardilini said and was surprised at the anger in his voice.

  ‘Okay. So when we opened up, Archie and Melody came in and sat over there. They were drinking, I had lunch and they were still there at twelve-thirty – a couple of blokes had joined them.’

  ‘Names?’

  ‘Jesus Christ.’ Donnie looked to Spencer for support; she looked back stonily. ‘Okay. Um. Dave and Tony. They’ll be here shortly, maybe.’

  ‘Regulars?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How was Melody behaving?’

  ‘Like Melody.’

  ‘Moron.’

  ‘Um, what? Shit. She, you know, she’s real friendly, she’s good fun.’

  ‘Were they having good fun yesterday?’

  ‘Yeah. Archie’s a character, always good for a laugh.’

  ‘Was Melody laughing?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What about Dave and Tony?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Which one came on to Melody? Look in your notes, Spencer.’ Spencer began flipping pages.

  ‘That would be Dave, I think,’ Donnie said.

  ‘What was he up to?’

  ‘Nothing, really, he just fancies himself as a bit of a ladies’ man.’

  ‘Was he touching her?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think he would.’

  ‘How was Melody receiving the attention?’

  ‘Jesus, she’s, you know, friendly; she probably wouldn’t be rude to Dave. But her and Archie are fine. Christ.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Next? Um, so, they were in here, I was back and forth, gets busy in the afternoon.’

  ‘Did they all leave together?’

  ‘No, because Dave and Tony came in to the front bar when Archie and Melody left.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘Around two.’

  ‘How were they behaving when they left?’

  ‘Bloody hell, they’d been drinking all day.’

  ‘Not good enough. Exactly how were they behaving?’ Cardilini leaned a little closer to Donnie, who looked to Spencer.

  ‘Um, they were having a kiss, you know, smooching and all that. They went to the ladies’ toilets together and then came out a bit mussed up and went out the door hanging off each other. That’s it.’

  ‘Two o’clock?’

  ‘Yep, or bloody close.’

  ‘They walk home?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Archie drives an old Holden.’

  ‘Give your contact details to Detective Constable Spencer. And remember I know where to find you.’ Cardilini eyeballed Donnie and then walked purposely out of the bar.

  When Spencer came out, Cardilini was leaning against the car, smoking.

  ‘You were tough on him.’

  ‘You think that was tough. He was lucky I didn’t reach over and pin him.’ Cardilini flicked his cigarette away and walked around to the driver’s side. Spencer watched the cigarette butt arc through the air and land; she walked over to it and ground it aggressively into the pavement with her shoe. Cardilini had the car running by the time she returned. She slammed the door shut and folded her arms. Being a tag-along dogsbody was not agreeing with her.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Friday, 19 November 1965

  2.30 p.m.
<
br />   As soon as he switched the car engine off at the Fremantle Police Station, Cardilini lit another cigarette.

  ‘I thought you were cutting back,’ Spencer said.

  Cardilini ignored her, got out and walked towards the entrance. She caught up to him. ‘What? What did I do?’

  ‘Nothing, it’s not you,’ Cardilini said curtly. Spencer rolled her eyes and quickened her pace.

  Inside, Cardilini leant on the unattended reception counter, pulled the ashtray to him and yelled, ‘Front desk!’ Three uniformed police emerged from different doorways. ‘You all having a nap?’

  ‘Cardilini, usual cheerful self,’ the desk sergeant said, walking towards them. The others disappeared. He gave Spencer a nod. ‘Detective Constable Spencer. Heard about you. Good job, yesterday. You kept a cool head. Hard to do around this lump. What do you want, Cardilini?’

  ‘I want to talk to someone with intelligence. But you’ll have to do. Are you holding Archie Cooper?’

  ‘We’re not quite holding him, we just haven’t told him he can walk out when he wants,’ the desk sergeant said with a smile.

  ‘Hilarious. The hospital tells me coppers from Fremantle bring Melody Cooper in regularly.’

  ‘News to me,’ the desk sergeant replied.

  Cardilini threw his hands in the air. ‘Why aren’t I surprised?’

  ‘You sharpen up your attitude, Cardilini, or you can stand there yelling all afternoon to nobody.’

  Cardilini nodded, exhaled deeply, handed it over to Spencer. ‘You do something, will you? I’m going to have a smoke.’ He turned and marched out the door. Spencer and the desk sergeant watched him go.

  ‘I’m Sergeant Christie.’ They shook hands. ‘So, tell me what’s going on?’

  At last, someone was willing to talk to her properly. ‘Melody Cooper wants to pursue charges against her husband Archie.’

  ‘Really?’ Christie couldn’t quite suppress a chuckle.

  ‘Yes. We spoke to her this morning.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time.’

  ‘There is plenty of evidence of his repeated abuse.’

  ‘Is there?’ Christie rocked on his heels.

  ‘Yes, your records, her injuries from yesterday.’

  ‘Detective Constable Spencer, whoever gave you that information is incorrect. There are no records in this office of police taking Melody Cooper to any hospital. It might have been Melville or North Fremantle officers, check with them.’