Arthur Upfield: Death of a Swagman

The constable on duty at Dr Scott’s house was brought back to the station. Mrs Marshall gave him and the second constable dinner, and afterwards they brought the headquarters car to the back door. The body of Jason was carried through the house and placed in the car, which was driven out of Merino by the two constables. When Marshall and Bony sat down to dinner the day had passed.

“I do wish the doctor would let me see Rose Marie,” Mrs Marshall said wistfully.

“Well, he said you couldn’t,” growled her husband.

“Perhaps he might if I asked him,” Bony added. “I would ask him if you promise not to stay long… both of you.”

“There you go-always backing her up,” complained the sergeant.

“Well, wouldn’t you like to see Rose Marie?”

“Of course. But the doctor said no, and he meant it by the way he said it.”

“When people say no, I always get the itch to make them say yes,” Bony told him, looking him straight in the eyes. “I exert myself especially when my wife says no, and most especially when my chief commissioner says no. And no man inall the world says no more emphatically than does Colonel Spendor.”

It was nine o’clock when Bony rang Dr Scott.

“How is Rose Marie?” he asked.

“Still sleeping beautifully.”

“Good! Marshall and his wife would like to take a peep at her before they retire for the night.”

“No. Won’t have it.”

“They promise just to creep in and look at her.”

“Damn it, Inspector, didn’t I say no?”

“Yes, something like that,” Bony agreed. “But what about cutting out the ‘Inspector’ and calling me Bony? All my pals do.”

“Well, I’ve no objection. What about coming along and telling me the story? I’m all on fire to hear it.”

“No. Won’t have it,” Bony shouted. “I’m leaving tomorrow too.”

“Well, you said you would,” argued Scott.

“No. Won’t have it,” repeated Bony.

“Oh, all right! You win. Tell the Marshalls to come along within half an hour. You come with ’emand give the yarn about old Jason.”

“That’s better,” Bony murmured. “I will see you tomorrow morning without fail. Got work still to do. Good night!”

“Will he let us?” asked Mrs Marshall from the doorway.

“Of course he will. You can both go right along.”

Mrs Marshall’s eyes grew misty.

“Thanks, Bony. You’re a good sort,” she told him.

After they had left he wrote a note to Sergeant Marshall which he left on the blotter. A minute later he was knocking on the door of Jason’s house.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” snarled young Jason. “Whatd’youwant now?”

“Just to talk to you. I’ve news of Rose Marie.”

“Oh! Good news? Come in.”

Bony was conducted along the passage to the living room. It was large and well windowed and cool. To the right of the fire-place dozens of pipes were suspended from nails driven into the wall.

“Well! What’s the news?” young Jason demanded.

“Can I sit down?”

“Yes.”

“In the first place, Tom, I have something to tell you about your father.”

“I know all about that,” snarled the young man, his eyes directed fiercely to his visitor. “I got it all out of him, every bit of it. I-I wanted to kill him… but he’s my old man, after all. I’ve known he was going balmy… and he is balmy, too. I told him that the game was up. I knew from what you said, and from you telling me about my dog being poisoned, that he had done the murders and why. But they won’t hang him, will they? He’s as ratty as a stirred-up snake-looking at windmills and motor fans and things.”

“Had he been like that long?”

“It was over two years back when I tumbled. But what about Rose Marie?”

“Just a minute. Your father admitted many things when he found that the case against him was fairly complete. At the end he took poison.”

Bony gently related what had happened. Young Jason’s pathetic face lost its antagonism. He sniffed several times, and without looking at Bony he said:

“I’m glad he beat you policemen. He was a decent old stick at heart. Cranky on acting, of course. Then he had me, and I’m nothing out of the box. Funny… I’ll be planting him with the old hearse he was so proud of.”

Bony spoke softly:

“I didn’t think you would like that, so I had him taken by the constables to divisional headquarters. He won’t be buried here at Merino. And now for Rose Marie. She has regained consciousness and the doctor gave her a sleeping draught. She will wake tomorrow in her right mind, and time only will be necessary to bring her back to health and strength.”

The young man’s eyes gleamed.

“Honest!” he said.

Bony nodded.

“I’d like to see her, but they won’t let me,” asserted the young man, the snarl coming back into his voice.

“Not tonight they won’t,” Bony said decisively. “But tomorrow in the morning they will. If you like to, you may go with me, because I want to see the child before I leave Merino.”

“You’ll take me, honest?”

Bony nodded, then he rose to his feet and went round the table to sit upon its edge and to regard the misshapen face with his kindly eyes. He said:

“I am going to ask you to do me a favour. It is growing late, and my swag and things are down at Sandy Flat. Would you put me up for the night? Anywhere would do, you know. And I’d like a feed too.”

Young Jason actually smiled.

“Too right, you can stay,” he told Bony. “I’m a bit fed up tonight, what with one thing and another. And the place will be sort of empty with the old man not hanging around. I could cook you some bacon and eggs, and make a pot of coffee.”

There was eagerness in his voice. Bony rubbed his hands and smiled too.

“That’ll do me,” he said. “Let’s get to it. I’m hungry… and very tired.”

In answer to a telephone call the following morning at noon young Jason closed the garage, scrubbed his hands, arms, and face, brushed his hair, ignored his grease-covered cap, and hurried to meet Bony, waiting for him at the police station gate. Five minutes later Dr Scott was leaning over a bed and saying to Rose Marie:

“There are two visitors to see you. Do you think we might let them in?”

The voice was so tired and the eyes were not the eyes of the Rose Marie who had peeped through the door grating into Bony’s cell. The doctor persisted.

“Well, I am going to tell you. One of them is Bony. And the other-why, the other is young Mr Jason.”

“Oh! Yes, I remember Bony.”

“Of course you do,” Dr Scott assured her. “Now you can only see them one at a time. Who will you see first? Bony?”

“Yes.”

The doctor’s face withdrew into a wall, and the dark, smiling face of the man she had first seen in the lockup cell emerged from the vague background and became distinct. She essayed a weak smile.

“Well now, Rose Marie, you seem to be getting better already,” the remembered voice was saying. “I am glad that you are well enough to see me because I have to go back to Sydney, and I wanted to tell you that I will be writing a letter to you soon.”

“Will you be away for long, Bony?”

“Yes, perhaps for a long time. And you-why, you are going to get well quickly and go back to school. Will you promise always to remember me?”

Rose Marie nodded.

“Promise with your fingers crossed,” he urged gently. And when she had crossed her fingers in the proper manner, and he had done the same, they both promised they would remember each other always.

“Never break a promise, Rose Marie,” he whispered. “Always keep a promise no matter what happens, won’t you?”