Arthur Upfield - Battling Prophet

“All right, Bony. I’ll buy.”

“I have proof sufficient to satisfy any reasonable man that Ben Wickham was murdered, how, by whom, and why.”

Superintendent Boase actually permitted his chin to drop. It didn’t occur to him to doubt, for Bony’s reputation was too solidly on the ground of achievement. So he said levelly:

“Blackmail, eh?”

“Blackmail, Super.”

“If I don’t pay, you let a murderer slip into limbo?”

Bony shrugged, smiled, and Boase burst out with:

“None of your Mona Lisagrin with me, Bony. When do I pay, and when do you?”

“Immediately we reach Brisbane, I shall be on the mat. You will be there; a unique experience for us both. You will hear me contending with stupid officialdom. You will hear me uttering dire threats. And, when you leave Brisbane for your own city, you will acknowledge that I shall ever be the ‘Great Australian Blackmailer’. And, Super, you will be rejoicing that the matter of that cremation will never come up to annoy you and reflect on your Department.”

“May I confer with my ChiefCommish?” Boase said ironically.

“Certainly. We should fly to Brisbane, via Broken Hill. The political police could be a hindrance at Melbourne and Sydney. By the way. Alice, just a moment.”

“I’m just serving supper. Sugar, Superintendent Boase?”

Boase looked at her sharply. He had not before heard this voice, this normal voice. And it appeared that not previously had he seen the normal face of this talented young woman. She placed tea-cups and plates before them, added plates of scones and cakes. Then seated herself between the big man and Bony.

“I present, Super, Policewoman Alice McGorr, of Melbourne.”

Boase glared at Alice, squinted at the plate of cakes, raised his gaze to meet the laughing eyes of Bony.

“The States, you see, are well represented. Alice-I am sure she will be delighted to be so addressed by you-is on leave, and will be staying here for another week to look after her poor sick uncle.”

Bony had purposely raised his voice, and from the bedroom came the lion’s roar.

“Poor sick uncle be damned!”

Boase lifted both hands off the table. He said:

“I give up. I give ruddy well up.”

And Alice said meekly:

“Now, Super, just drink your tea, and swear after if you want to.”

Bony pulled the bell at the front door of Mount Mario and, while waiting, the moon told him it was about ten o’clock, the moon being less usable than the sun as a clock. To the maid who answered the bell he said:

“I am Inspector Bonaparte. I wish to see Mrs. Parsloe.”

He was invited inside and offered a chair in the hall. Two minutes later he was bowing to a white-haired woman, large, austere, and, he was thankful to note, intelligent.

“I have been wondering why you didn’t call when you were down last, Inspector,” she said. “Please take that chair. It’s very easy.”

“Unfortunately I cannot stay as long as I would like, madam. I am leaving almost at once for Adelaide. There are several questions I wish to ask, and a service to render which I believe will relieve your mind relative to a certain matter.”

Mrs. Parsloe flipped a cigarette from a pop-up box, and Bony was not slow with a match. She looked above the flame and smiled.

“It seems that you are addicted to trading questions, Inspector. We have heard all about you from the Reverend Mr. Weston. I too agree to trade.”

“I thank you, madam. Will you begin, or shall I?”

“Perhaps your questions would be more exciting?”

“As you wish. Why did you not report the burglary of the office?”

“I was asked not to report the matter to Gibley, and I would prefer not to mention by whom.”

“Was the ‘whom’ the person you reported Dr. Linke to, the following morning or afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“This ‘whom’ had been in contact with you previously, had he not?”

“Yes.”

“You reported Dr. Linke for what reason?”

“My brother’s weather calculations and other papers and a book were missing, Inspector. Dr. Linke, a very nice man, is a foreigner. His…er… work for my brother wasn’t quite regular, but, according to my brother, invaluable.”

“Have you knowledge or even an idea where he is at the moment?”

“Oh yes. He returned to us this afternoon.”

“Ah! I am happy to know that. I must see him, and Miss Lawrence, before I leave.” Bony smiled and extracted a sheet of paper from a pocket. “In the course of my…er… fishing expeditions, I came across your late brother’s will. As it was in an unsealed envelope, I took the liberty of reading it. I present you with a rough draft of all the clauses in it.”

“You found the will!” exclaimed Mrs. Parsloe, abruptly standing.“And that notebook!”

“Yes, and the notebook. I know that Mr. McGillycuddy was most interested in the notebook, but the will expressly states he is not to have it.”

“He wasn’t going to get it,” Mrs. Parsloe asserted sharply.

“Unless the Commonwealth paid the figure you named to Mr. McGillycuddy?”

“Unless… Why, you seem to know everything, Inspector.”

“Yes, Mrs. Parsloe, now I know everything. Later, when I have gone, you might ring Mr. McGillycuddy and say I said so. Now, where can I see Dr. Linke and Miss Lawrence?”

Mrs. Parsloe was an angry woman when she left the room.

Thirty seconds were given to Bony to admire the pictures, when Linke flung open the door and followed Jessica. She clasped both of Bony’s hands, and Linke gripped his arm.

“Bony! Is everything all right?” Jessica asked anxiously.

“Splendid. Mr. Luton is in bed with a slight cold. He is being nursed by the young woman you contacted in Melbourne. She is very efficient, and will be staying with Mr. Luton for a week at least.”

“Yes? Go on. There’s more.”

“Greedy, are you not? The enemy has been captured, and the police are all over the place mopping up. I am going to Brisbane for a few days, and shall be back for the extension of my leave. Go and see Alice and Mr. Luton tomorrow. You’ll like Alice, and she’ll like you.”

Bony regarded Dr. Linke, smiling and open, and obviously happy.

“I found Ben Wickham’s will and the missing green-covered notebook, Doctor.”

“Ah! Good! That is very good, Inspectore.”

“I had sufficient audacity to read the will. Ben Wickham has treated both of you very handsomely. He thought a great deal of you, and to you, Doctor, he bequeathed that mysterious notebook. Now I must go. Superintendent Boase is waiting for me. Because of the audience down at the cottage, I was not able to sayaurevoir to Mr. Luton. Please give him a message. Tell him I’ll be back to stay again soon, and not to disturb the hens until we can rob their nests together.”

Blackmail by Inference

ITwas ten o’clock this warm spring day in Brisbane. The staff at PoliceHeadquarters, normally calm and slightly bored, was this morning influenced by an undercurrent of excitement, for the rumour was rife that at long last Inspector Bonaparte was really to be stood on the mat.

The Chief Commissioner was in a wicked mood. He tormented the sheaf of papers on the desk, and now and then would lift himself and the swivel chair and pound it on the floor. His meticulously barbered white hair and the full white military moustache emphasised the dull red of his furious countenance, and his diamond-hard blue eyes bored directly across the desk to the dark, lawyer-type face beyond. His voice, though low, had a penetrating effect.

“I’ve told you, and I’ve told others, sir, that Bonaparte isn’t a policeman’s boot-lace, but he is my ace investigator, and further, and most important, he is a man of honour. If he had been told the true state of affairs down at that damn place called Cowdry, he wouldn’t have stirred up this… this… confounded Commonwealth balderdash and nonsense.”