Arthur Upfield - Murder Must Wait

“Not to the extent of practising one of them. She wasn’t very communicative about herself.” The librarian smiled, and Bony liked that smile. “So many women are, you know. They seem to think this is a Gossip House, and my assistants sometimes chide me with being too friendly. But I like to be helpful, especially with earnest people and students.”

“Tell me, was Mrs Rockcliff aloof? I mean, did she give the impression of being without interest in other people?”

“Well, hardly that, Inspector. She often talked to me. About literature, of course. I found her rather intelligent, and not objectionably so. Her interest in famous writers is shared by one of our bank managers. They became acquainted here, actually, and would often retire and talk for twenty minutes or half an hour. I’m sure Mr Bulford will miss her. He has a passion for Joseph Conrad, and she almost worshipped theBrontes.”

“And the Library is open in the evenings?”

“Until ten o’clock. We have discussion groups, and neither my daughter nor I regret the extra time we give.”

“Your work must be more engrossing than mine,” Bony said. “I have to keep to one world, that of abnormal psychology; you may live in other worlds far more wholesome. You have had a robbery, I hear. Lose much… books… pictures?”

“Nothing like that, Inspector. It’s most peculiar. The object stolen was an aboriginal rock drawing. I’ve only been in charge here for six months, having previously lived in Sydney, and I don’t know much about its history. I must dig up the records.”

“A painting of the original rock drawing, I assume?”

“No. It was actually the section or stratum of the rock on which the drawing had been done in white and yellow ochre. It must have weighed a hundred pounds, and it was supported by a special stand in the Reading Room.”

“H’m! Peculiar thing to steal. Valuable?”

“As a museum or collector’s piece, without doubt.”

“And what did the drawing portray?”

“No one knows. My predecessor might have known, but he died shortly after I took over. It even baffled Professor Marlo-Jones. He thinks the drawing might have something to do with the rain-making ceremonies of the Arunta Nation.”

“As you say, an extraordinary thing to steal from a Library,” Bony agreed. “Well, thank you very much for your co-operation. I will see that the books are returned from Mrs Rockcliff’s house. Goodbye.”

Alice was waiting for him in the main room, her interest being captured by the ceiling.

“I like it, don’t you?”

“The colour, yes.”

“I think I’ll do our lounge ceiling in that colour… duck-egg blue ceiling and ivory matt walls for the lounge at least.”

“You decorate?”

“Too right. Get the brother to give a hand. Can’t afford to employ house decorators these days. Nice place this Library. I could spend a lot of time here.”

“Alas, Alice, our time is spent.”

The Chiefs are Worried

THE‘BOYS’ room’ at the police residence, now occupied by Bony, faced the south and therefore was on the coolest side of the house… a distinct advantage in February. In addition to the open door and the raised window, one end of the room was merely fly-netted, and could be shuttered were the wind too unfavourable. Thus the ‘boys’ room’ was ideal in which to work on a hot afternoon.

When Alice knocked on the open door and was bidden to enter, Bony was seated at the desk, minus his coat and arrayed in tussore silk shirt, the rolled sleeves showing the smooth texture of dark skin and deceptively flaccid muscles. He smiled at Alice and indicated the chair opposite himself.

“Essen still busy?” he asked.

“Yes. Rushed back to hislab., as he calls his darkroom, immediately after lunch. He’s got something cooking in thatrathole. He says he’s on an important lead in that Library job, but I think he’s brewing something.”

“It could be the heat, Alice, but it does sound involved. Something cooking… we think… brewing something.”

“Must be,” Alice agreed, removing her hat and gently mopping her forehead. The short-sleeved dress revealed the almost masculine arms, and the plunging neck-line mocked the scrawny neck supporting the large head so ill served by the full blonde hair drawn so tightly back.

“So Essen is excited,” murmured Bony. “It’s possible that that Library theft might concern us, and what you say of Essen’s speed from lunch table to darkroom tends to promote possibility to probability. You know what was stolen?”

“Yes, although you didn’t tell me.”

“You distracted my mind by discussing interior decoration. Anyway, we must wait for Essen. He has made an excellent job of these pictures.”

Alice accepted the copies made of the picture of Mrs Rockcliff and her baby, and the manner in which she studied them almost convinced Bony that her primary interest was in the infant and remained so. Without doubt, the mother instinct in Policewoman Alice McGorr was exceedingly strong.

“As you say, a good job,” conceded Alice. “You ought to see Essen’s pictures of his wife and baby. Just perfect. What did you have these done for?”

“Chiefly for the newspapers. Yoti has been complaining about the reporters from both Melbourne and Sydney, and we must give them something. Someone might recognise the dead woman under another name.” Alice sniffed, and Bony detected the thought it expressed. “You dislike my methods?”

“It’s not for me to say.”

“You are thinking I am being too deliberate, too slow. You are remembering that the murder was forty hours old when discovered and that it’s now seventy-odd hours later… with nothing to show.”

“Perhaps I am. Murder is a job for a team.”

“Two teams are working on it: one in Melbourne, the other in Sydney. A good team would have telephoned me last night or this morning the examination results of those clothes’ tags, that wall section containing the hair grease of the murderer, the analysis of the floor sweepings. I am still waiting. Teams of experts rushed to Mitford to investigate the abductions of Babies 2, 3 and 4. Teams rushed about, wearing out Sergeant Yoti, annoying Essen, drawing their salaries and expenses and achieving precisely nothing.

“Now you just browse through these Summaries on the four stolen babies prepared by Inspector Janes, who conducted the three investigations. Note anything contradictory, abnormal, even absurd when applied to your own knowledge of backgrounds, and finally give me your opinion of Inspector Janes’s team work.”

As Alice accepted the closely-typed documents there was faint resentment in her brown eyes, for even now she was unable to be sure if Bony mocked her, was being sarcastic or merely teasing. She read the first Official Summary and made a note. The second Summary produced two notes written in a sprawling hand and with the deliberation of the poorly educated. Once she looked up at Bony to see him completely relaxed, eyes closed, and in her own was something akin to wonderment, for Alice McGorr had been brought up in a world of cynicism and distrust.

She was engaged on the last Summary when voices without upsetconcentration, and again looking at Bony, found him in the same position but with one eye open.

“Hi, get up out of that and polish my car,” roared Essen. “It’s no time for sleeping, and if you don’t want to workget back to the Settlement.” Mumble… mumble. “I’m just telling you, Fred, that’s all.”

Essen came in, broadly smiling. Bony’s second eye opened, and he nodded to a vacant chair, saying:

“Your tracker loafing on the job?”

“Does little else but sleep on the job. Got a favourite shrub just beyond your door. Don’t blame the coot really. It’s hot enough to make anyone go on strike.”