Arthur Upfield - Battling Prophet

They looked sharply at each other. Outside, the dogs broke into warning barking. The man who knew them said:

“Someone coming. Anothercaller, could be.”

Rays of Light

THEgarden gate snapped shut. Mr. Luton’s eyes puckered expectantly. When footsteps sounded from the veranda, he began to smile, and he shouted:

“Come in and be damned.”

The door was flung open to admit a young woman wearing a light raincoat and a kerchief tied round her hair. A man followed her. His belted coat emphasised physical strength and lent distinction to his carriage. He bowed stiffly.

“Why, Sunset!” exclaimed Mr. Luton, advancing to meet his visitors.

“I do hope I’m not damned, Mr. Luton,” teasingly said the girl, and Bony liked her low, rich voice.

“Didn’t know it was you. Didn’t recognise your step on the veranda.”

“You did recognise mine, I presume,” stated the man, wryly smiling at Mr. Luton and attempting to include Bony. The dark eyes succeeded where the smile failed, accepting Bony’s face, feature by feature, his hands, his feet.

“You… You are Inspectore Bonaparte, yes?”

“That’s right,” interjected Mr. Luton, saying to Bony: “Meet Doctor Linke. And this is Miss Jessica Lawrence.”

‘Sunset’ Mr. Luton had called her. Herhair, her skin, her eyes, were of the sunset, and when she smiled Bony was unaccountably reminded of apples lying on meadow grass. Not to be out-pointed, he bowed, and a Frenchman would have envied him.

“We came down to gossip, Inspector,” she said. “You don’t mind?”

“To talk with you would be a privilege, Miss Lawrence,” Bony gallantly replied. Then his hand was being crushed in a clamp, and he was faintly annoyed at not being quick enough to counter the clamp.

“I, indeed, am happy to meet you,” said Dr. Linke, and because he smiled infectiously was forgiven the hand-grip. “As my Jessica said, we came to gossip, to speak of many things including the kings and… and what you say?”

“Cabbages,” laughed the girl.

She removed the kerchief. Her hair was then a delight to behold. The man assisted her with her coat and Mr. Luton took it from him and indicated chairs. Bony noted that the cat had fled. Linke found a pipe and tobacco, and was unable to mask his interest in Bony and yet conceal the basis of his curiosity.

“You learned I was staying with Mr. Luton… from whom?” enquired Bony.

“At dinner to-night Mr. Weston mentioned the fact,” replied the girl. “Afterwards, when we had left the house for a walk, Carl suggested that we call, Inspector. There’s been something on his mind, and-well, here we are.”

“That is so. Here we are,” agreed Dr. Linke, beaming at them, his expressive blue eyes bright and his wide shoulders lifted. “We have talked, my Jessica and I, and we are not-how you say?-easy of mind. Incidents lately have indicated, slightly, a pattern, and patterns are the fire of the smoke. You understand?”

“Of course. Go on, Doctor.”

“Forgive me if I seem toproceed cautiously, Inspectore. If I make error, please correct. Your purpose in being here?”

“I am visiting Mr. Luton for the fishing,” replied Bony. “Mr. Luton and I are old friends who haven’t met for many years. He heard I was in Adelaide, hence the invitation. I applied for leave of absence and obtained ten days.”

“You are, naturally, a detective?”

“Yes, but not of the South Australian Police Department. I am a Queenslander.”

“The pastor also said at dinner that you knew Mr. Wickham. True?”

“I did know him,” calmlylied Napoleon Bonaparte, and added: “Years ago.”

Dr. Linke leaned forward as though to emphasise his next remark.

“Could we agree, Inspectore Bonaparte, that Mr. Luton has put before you his thesis on the hoo-jahs?”

The pronunciation of ‘hoo-jahs’ brought a smile from his hearers and he caught its infection. That he was extremely earnest in striving to reach a goal was obvious, and Bony eased the road a little for him.

“Mr. Luton has explained his convictions, based on experience, concerning the effects of alcoholic poisoning. He has also put forward his conviction that Mr. Wickham did not die from alcoholic poisoning. He has proffered sound argument in support of his contentions. I am still keeping an open mind, Doctor.”

“I thank you, Inspectore,” Dr. Linke said, formally. “The incidents of which I spoke just now, seemingly to form a pattern, lead me to agree with Mr. Luton that Mr. Wickham could have been liquidated.”

“You agree with me about the hoo-jahs!” exclaimed Mr. Luton, plainly delighted.

“I am-howd’you say?-being pushed to the belief, Mr. Luton.” He frowned as though finding it difficult to choose words from the limited vocabulary at his command. “I want… I think…”

“Let me explain, Carl,” the girl interrupted. “Inspector Bonaparte, Carl, as you must know, is a New Australian. He came to Australia after the war, and he had to serve two years as an agricultural labourer, even though he is quite famous as a meteorologist. You know how it is; with all foreign medical men, scientists, professional men and such.”

“I know how it is, Miss Lawrence, and how ridiculously stupid is the neglect in our country of their abilities.”

“Well, Mr. Wickham contrived to have Dr. Linke assigned to his estate, and, once here, there was no intention of wasting Carl’s gifts and knowledge on milking cows and grooming tractors. Last year, Carl was granted full Australian citizenship, and he naturally is a little nervous of attracting official notice by being, shall we say, associated with murder, to put it bluntly.”

“Yes! Yes, my Jessica. That is how it is. You see, Inspectore Bonaparte?”

“I see,” replied Bony. “Let me assist in clearing the fog for all of us. I am a foreigner in South Australia, on holiday, and not on official duty. How I spend my leave can be of no legal concern to anyone, provided I don’t break the law. I don’t know if you have in Germany what we call private detectives, and the Americans call private eyes, Doctor, but you may regard me as a temporary private eye.” Bony chuckled. “I have on many occasions been strongly tempted to urge my superiors to journey to the nether regions and myself to carry on as a private eye. I would be fully occupied in winding up unsolved murders.”

“In other words, Doctor, you can spill it,”chortled Mr. Luton.

“I thank you, I thank you,” energetically acknowledged Dr. Linke, addressing himself in turn to Mr. Luton, to Miss Lawrence and to Bony. Bony addressed himself to the girl.

“When those at dinner spoke of me, what was their attitude?”

“Mr. Weston mentioned you were with Mr. Luton, shortly after we sat down,” was the reply. “He seemed cynically amused. Then Dr. Maltby said he had met you, and, further, that he had heard in town you were interested in the death of Mr. Wickham. Without speaking, something passed between him and Mrs. Parsloe, as though both followed the same thought and needed support from the other. It was seen, too, by Mr. Weston, who said: ‘I am reminded, my dear Agatha, that this extraordinary person’s namesake, the Emperor, often advised that when in doubt it is best to do nothing.’ ”

“That I do not comply with,” argued Dr. Linke. “When doubt comes, it is best to do something. I have doubted and I have acted. I am here. I will tell you. Mr. Wickham was a very good friend to me, and to my Jessica. He was a fine man. He brought me here. He gave me work I love. Slowly, for you understand I have scientific training, he brought me to see there could be much in his line of research. I came to understand how valuable accurate long-range weather forecasts would be to agriculturists and to the world. And as we worked together, so I came to fear the hostile forces gathering to oppose him and halt his work.”