Arthur Upfield - Death of a Swagman

As he had entered, so Dr Scott left, followed by Marshall. In less than two minutes the doctor returned to the office to tell Bony that he was sure the smell of chloroform still clung to the child’s pillow. Marshall let him out and then rejoined Bony.

“Sorry I spoke like I did,” he said gruffly.

Across Bony’s face flashed a smile. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“That’s nothing to worry about, Marshall,” he said softly. “I felt no better about it than you did, and do. When it is all cleared up you will acquit me. I am now expecting the postmaster. After he arrives I want you to go along to the garage and ask young Jason to come in for a moment or two. As you well know, young Jason was very friendly with Rose Marie. He may be able to give us a lead. Treat him very gently.”

“Yes, he might give us a lead,” Marshall agreed. “He’s a queer fellow, but all the kids like him. He might give us a lead as you suggest. Ah… there’s Lovell coming in now.”

The postmaster’s pale face was adorned with a thin moustache. His shoulders were slightly stooped. The sergeant placed a chair for him at the table opposite Bony and withdrew.

“So you are a police inspector,” Lovell said, brows raised. “What can I do for you?”

“A lot for me and more for Rose Marie.”Bony told him. “The child was kidnapped sometime during last night, and I am going to confide in you this much-I believe that she was taken by the man who killed Kendall and that swagman.” Bony leaned well back in his chair and stared hard at Mr Lovell. “I am professionally interested in certain parties here in Merino, and some time ago I wrote to Sydney asking for inquiries to be made concerning their origins and histories. Being a civil servant, as I am, you will appreciate that no sense of urgency will be experienced by the officers in Sydney. You will appreciate the urgency animating us here in Merino, and you will appreciate the urgency with which I want to contact Sydney.”

“That’s so, Inspector. Rule of thumb, you know, and all that. Still, as a general rule, it’s better to be slow and sure.”

“I agree there with you. Now… will you take over that telephone exchange yourself and do all possible to clear the lines to police headquarters, Sydney, as quickly as possible?”

“Yes.”

“I am going to ask headquarters to speak on matters which normally would be concealed in a sealed envelope, and, therefore, would you remain in that exchange until I am done?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. Thank you, Mr Lovell. Will you get going?”

The postmaster stood up.

“Anything else I can do?” he asked. “I’ve got a kid of Rose Marie’s age.”

“Well, now,” said Bony slowly, placing the tips of his fingers together beneath the point of his chin. “You could take a faint interest in the conversations of other telephone users this morning, and make a mental note of anything which might have a bearing on the disappearance of Rose Marie. But haste in contacting Sydney is of first importance.”

“I’ll bet I’ll get Sydney within an hour. So long. And when I do, I’ll lock the exchange door and shut fast the window.”

It was a quarter to nine o’clock. Left alone, Bony sat still and stared at the police notices on the back of the door which Lovell had closed behind him. From outside came the voice of the wind which since sunup had risen to become half a gale. Bony’s mind became less taut, more fluid. He thought of young Jason and of Mr James. Then again of the postmaster. What had Lovell said just before he went? Something about shutting a door. Yes, that was it. Shutting a door. Who else said something about shutting a door?

Into Bony’s mind appeared, as on a screen, the hut at Sandy Flat, the hut as he had last seen it in the moonlight. The door of the hut was shut, and he remembered that he had debated then whether he had closed it. Closed it! No, he hadn’t closed that door when he left the place for the cane-grass meat house, because his arms were loaded with his swag and things. And that door would not have been closed by the wind. It would not just catch shut because therewere no door lock or handles. There was merely a bent piece of wire to keep that door shut. Bony leapt from his chair. Within three seconds he was out in the street.

Mrs Sutherland Is Thrilled

IT WAS NOT by chance that Mrs Sutherland arrived in town so early that morning. She was to meet a sister who was coming from Mildura by the mail which reached Merino at eleven o’clock, and she found that she had certain shopping to do, so decided to do the shopping before rather than after the arrival of the visitor.

The track from her homestead joined the main road just below the church and, on arriving at the lower end of the macadamizedstreet, she was astonished to see the activity of the inhabitants. Her destination was the hotel yard, where she always parked her car, and halfway up the street she saw the Rev. Lawton-Stanley emerge from a shop followed by more than a dozen men and boys. They all trooped into a house next door to the shop. She saw another party of men swarming about a house which stood back from the street beyond an empty allotment, whilst others stood in groups here and there, engaged in excited conversation.

Mr Watson, who was accompanied by two strangers, waved to her. The Rev. Llewellyn James, who was talking to Mr Fanning, the butcher, raised his felt hat to her, but on neither his face nor on Mr Watson’s face was there a welcoming smile. And then, as though he materialized out of space, the man she knew as Robert Burns was standing on the running board of her moving car.

“I want you to take me at once out to Sandy Flat,” he told her.

Instinctively she accelerated, then put the brake on, hard. The car stopped midway between the hotel and Mr Jason’s garage. Bony dashed round to the front of the car and climbed into the seat beside her. Mrs Sutherland giggled.

“Whatis this, a getaway from the police or attempted elopement?” she demanded. “Get out of my car. I don’t budge till you do.”

“Neither, Mrs Sutherland. Your car is the only one on the street at this moment, and I’ve got to get to Sandy Flat without loss of time. Come on now. Be a sport and take me there. I can tell you all about it on the way.”

Mrs Sutherland was first and foremost a romantic. To back up her romanticism there was a strong vein of humour. And, in addition, there was a fine confidence that she could take care of herself. Besides, this Burns man was a good-looking fellow, and he had nice eyes even though they were somewhat small and fierce this bright morning.

She pressed the self-starter, geared in, and drove the car in a small circle to begin the journey to Sandy Flat just as Sergeant Marshall and young Jason emerged from the garage.

“Thanks, Mrs Sutherland. Drive like… hell,” Bony said.

“You are not escaping from jail, are you? I thought you were out,” she remarked without visible concern. “What’s it all about?”

People stared at the old car as it sped down the street, the hardest woman inall the district holding with sun-blackened hands to the driving wheel.

Bony told her who and what he was, and gave in very broad outline the purpose of his visit to Merino. He spoke with unmasked truth in his voice. And then he told her how Rose Marie had been taken from her bed, and what he suspected was the reason, and whom he suspected of kidnapping her.

“You don’t know who has done these murders?” she asked, the veneer of frivolousness stripped from her.

“No… not yet… but I’m getting warm. Can’t you drive faster?”

“Perhaps I could,” she agreed, and pressed the accelerator down to the floorboard. “You know, I always felt you were not an ordinary stockman. I was only saying so to Mr Jason the other evening. He comes out some evenings to listen to my playing.”